


Begin Again

by theobliviouswriter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cancer, Canon in general, Coach Victor Nikiforov, Coach Viktor, Drama, Falling In Love, Lovely, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Multichapter, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vitya, Yuri's big in this, at first, cancer au, chubby!yuuri, mentions of depression, season one center, serial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theobliviouswriter/pseuds/theobliviouswriter
Summary: When Katsuki Yuuri finds out he has cancer, he hangs up his ice skates and believes his passion for the sport is far behind him.When Viktor Nikiforov finds out about the latter's retirement, he is dissatisfied and decides to take matters into his own hands.What happens when the two come together as coach and athlete? Will they light up the dark or will Yuuri's illness make them simmer out?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago, one of my friends played Cancer by 21P for the class in Creative Writing. About a month ago, I really listened to it. A week ago, I watched Yuuri!!! On Ice in a day. An idea was born and I had to write about it.   
> This story will have a lot of guts. Cancer is not pretty. It's an ugly disease that eats people up. People grow skeletal. They lose their hair. The victims' entire lifestyle changes so they can fight. People who have cancer are absolute warriors, really. They fight so hard. I don't know if I'll ever have to deal with cancer, but several of my family members have. In the past five years, I've lost two of my close family members to cancer. I've never had a family member with AML, but I've researched and will continue to research to make the portrayal as accurate as possible.   
> In honor of those who have Leukemia, I decided to donate to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, and I urge you to as well if you can. All you have to do is go to www.lls.org and click "Donate" in the top right-hand corner.   
> This story isn't all darkness, but there will be elements that aren't as fun and fluffy as we want, which is natural. I do not and will never condone the romanticization of illnesses.  
> And finally, I am posting this on Tumblr as well and will thank my betas there. If you would rather read it on the good ol' Tumblr dot com, my user is @TheObliviousWriter; I tag people there as well!  
> Now, please do enjoy!

Something like a devil crept up and bit the heads off of innocent victims, claiming one after the other in its clasp of death. Before it was widely known, before the demonic beast was fought against with militiamen and women, it snuck around in the night with countless victims’ lives on its sleeve. The monster was ruthless and cruel, decimating each person it claimed, but it was foolish as well, overly confident that it could not be bested.

However, with time and research, it came to light that there were ways to prevent the monster from being so wicked. It could never be killed, at least there was no knowledge of how, but it could at least be held at bay. It pounded upon doors and begged to be let in, but no one remained as ignorant as it.

The beast was called cancer.

Katsuki Yuuri had cancer.

Acute Myeloid Leukemia, to be exact.

Yuuri was one of the lucky few who escaped cancer’s grasp early on. At ten, he was diagnosed with cancer common in children and had to postpone his life for treatments. The young boy felt hopeless and distant from everyone and everything around him. He lost himself in the darkness of his condition and felt like there was no way out. But, with the help of those who loved him, he discovered figure skating.

Before it was discovered that he had Leukemia, Yuuri took ballet lessons with a local legend, Minako Okukawa. She was a very lovely woman with pristine form, years of experience, and a heart of gold; Yuuri knew that he learned from the best.

She was one of his most frequent visitors alongside family and decided one day that she wanted him to take skating seriously. He had been down to the rink before. He had skidded and tripped about the ice in his young age but as he grew, she noticed he had taken an interest in spins and jumps. He would never do anything too complicated, but she knew that if he wasn’t at the barre, he was at the rink.

The decision to figure skate helped Yuuri with his depression and comforted him like an old friend.

Yuuri met his first friends and fell in love with the ice, the adrenaline, and the sting of the frigid air on his cheeks at the Ice Castle.

Katsuki Yuuri loved the rink and never stopped practicing if he could help it. Between chemotherapy treatments, ballet lessons, and ice skating sessions, Yuuri slipped in time to spend at home. Though he rarely spent time there, he cherished every moment with his family.

By the time he was twelve, the cancer set itself in remission. He no longer felt as weak on ice. The bruises began to go away. His nose bleeds stopped. Yuuri became a brand new person, lively and excited and he thanked ice skating for it.

It happened to be the same year he found Viktor Nikiforov.

Twelve-year-old Yuuri found inspiration from the young Junior Grand Prix champion and took steps to be like him. With a close friend, Yuuko, he practiced Viktor’s intricate steps and jumps and always tried to nail each element. Over time, he mastered the routines.

Over time, his obsession with Viktor grew.

Every few months, a new poster would be added to his wall. Upon learning about Makkachin, Viktor’s poodle, Yuuri got a poodle of his own and named it after his idol.

Yuuri followed Viktor closely, even into his professional figure skating days.

By the age of eighteen, Yuuri wound up in Detroit, studying for college and practicing to become a competitive figure skater. From what he knew, he had put his cancerous past behind him. Of course, he had checkups: Celestino, his coach, insisted he should go every other month but Yuuri decided that every six months like he’d been doing would suffice. There were times when he was weaker because he had to keep up with maintenance treatments, but that didn’t keep him from trying, and failing, and winning, and losing.

He gave it all he could, even if the constant fear of any sort of cancer returning remained within him.

Yuuri wanted to be unstoppable, and even if he was a nervous wreck he was pretty good at what he did.

Katsuki Yuuri built himself a personal empire. He gave himself a pedestal, whether he realized it or not. A JSF certified figure skater. He knew he wasn’t perfect, but he always did his best. He entered the qualifiers for the Grand Prix with confidence…

Which all came tumbling down with shoddy practices.

Although Yuuri practiced constantly and was sure of what he was doing, there were times when he missed a landing, an opening, a spin, a quad. He became dizzy and confused. He got nosebleeds and bruised quite easily for no reason.

That could only mean one thing.

The terror that came with the possibility of cancer haunted him every day until the day of the Sochi Grand Prix. His results came in several hours before the competition: Cancer.

Yuuri had cancer, again.

Deep down inside, he knew his diagnosis. He knew he couldn’t be free from its grasp forever, even if it _was_ medically rare.

It had been in remission for over ten years, and here he was again, cancerous.

The news impacted his performance greatly. Just before the competition, Yuuri suffered a breakdown. Not only was he under pressure, but the news of the return of his illness also drove him to remorse. In times like that, he cried, ate, and tussled with depression. He felt alone, so alone like a star in the midnight sky, millions of miles away.

Celestino found him, telling him to forfeit. Of course, Yuuri said he had to skate.

“I want to kiss the ice one last time. I want to embrace the feeling once more.”

Of course, Yuuri shook in his skates, anxious to step onto the ice.

When he did, he lost himself, yet again. The performance was utterly pitiful. He missed his quad, ran into walls, over rotated. Yuuri could’ve been considered a laughing stalk, and after that program, that’s all Yuuri thought himself to be.

All he wanted was to go home, sleep, and never wake up.

Yuuri didn’t go home, not immediately. He stayed with Celestino for another few months, received an official diagnosis, and was treated in America.

Acute Myeloid Leukemia. They caught it early, before it began to eat at other organs in his body.

At least his lungs and brain were safe, but depression crept in where cancer couldn’t.

Yuuri hung up his skates one treatment in and graduated college in silence.

Hasetsu welcomed him home with open arms in April of 2016.

Minako welcomed him home with a warm greeting, not berating him for his binge-induced weight gain.

The Katsukis insisted he ate katsudon to soothe his soul.

The Nishigoris gave him the keys to the Ice Castle for “whenever your passion for skating burns bright in your heart again”.

The town gave him support.

The fans gave him their love.

But Yuuri, overcome with pain, sickness, and depression, became silent and brooding, cold to the ones he loved the most.

He felt helpless, and looked it.

It was another day at home. Yuuri woke up to the gentle nudging of his sister. She stood above him, blinking as she observed his lumpy figure under the covers.

“Morning, sleepy head. How are you feeling today?” Mari asked, withdrawing a cigarette from the box.

Yuuri stared at her, blinking a couple of times. He sat up slowly, reaching for his glasses. Shoving them onto his face, he got a better look at his sister and the cigarette wedged between her middle and forefinger. “Really?”

“Really, what?” She cocked her head, following his line of vision to the cigarette in her hand. “Oh. Outside. Yeah, it’s been a while since you’ve been home.”

Nodding, he tugged on his nightshirt to give himself more of something to cover him up. Not only was it cold for an April morning, but he also lacked any confidence to be around his family without a shirt on.

Yuuri stood, brushing past his sister to unplug his phone. He turned it on to see if anyone, anywhere had something to say. He had a couple of texts, but they were from his doctor and Yuuko. A part of him wanted to see how Phichit was doing, but the more prominent part of his brooding manner told him that if he hadn’t reached out, he didn’t truly care.

It felt immature, but he backed away from the phone and turned to his sister.

An air of pity lingered in her gaze.

“Anything?”

“A doctor’s appointment later today,” Yuuri sighed. Just as he turned to leave the room, Mari grabbed his arm. He looked back, surprised. He yanked his arm away as she shot him a sorry glance.

“I don’t like it when you shut us out like that. It makes us feel helpless,” Mari said a note of pain in her voice. “You can’t close us out forever, you know? We care about you.”

Mari told him this almost every day and almost every day, Yuuri ignored it.

Maybe it was time to actually listen.

“I know you care and want to help me, Mari, but I feel helpless myself. All I can do is sit around and hope that one day, my hair will grow back and I’ll stop looking like a toe. But who knows when that will happen? Who knows if I’ll ever get better?” Yuuri felt tears prick his eyes. He wanted to disappear.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. Just...there’s food and I’d take a bath before your doctor’s appointment. What are you doing today, anyway?”

The Katsuki siblings slid out of Yuuri’s room and headed to the dining room.

“Chemo, boring stuff. I don’t know. I’ll probably be yelled at for my weight, and then he’ll ask why I’m not ice skating, and then I’ll tell him that I don’t want to ice skate anymore and—”

“I get it,” Mari said, “but I really don’t think Minako will let you stop dancing, at least.”

Mari had to be right. Minako would let him stop dancing when hell froze over.

Yuuri sat down upon approaching the chabudai, seeing a bowl of miso soup, white rice, tea, and pork set out for him. Lately, his hunger had been decreasing. Sometimes stress led him to binge eat. Sometimes he was too sick to eat. This time, food was beginning to lose its taste. Only last night, he noticed the katsudon he was eating didn’t taste like it usually did.

“Good morning, Yuuri. How are you feeling?”

Peering over towards the door, Yuuri found his mother standing there, holding a cup of tea in one hand and leaning her other arm against the door jamb. She looked at him with worried eyes. That was the only receiving look he’d gotten from her since he came back. As much as he hated it, he knew there was no other feeling she had towards him. With him being sick, she couldn’t help but worry.

“Normal, I guess, Okasaan. Thank you for the breakfast.” He nodded, scooped some rice up with his chopsticks, and took a bite.

Bland. But then again, it _was_ rice. And he had to eat things that were easy on the stomach.

“Oh!” Hiroko said, sitting down across from Yuuri. “I meant to tell you. Therapy dogs are coming by today at the center! Do you know anyone else who’s going to be there today? Any of your support group friends?”

Yuuri didn’t have any of those because when he was supposed to be at his support group, he sat by the sea and watched the waves roll along the shore. He told his parents he went to a support group to make them happy.

The problem was, he was never good at socializing. Cancer didn’t give him a socialization superpower.

“Probably just me,” Yuuri replied, taking another bite.

His mother’s smile faltered but didn’t go away completely. A hint of excitement twinkled in her eyes, and he couldn’t quite tell why. It made him anxious. She had something planned.

Yet, he didn’t ask her what. He didn’t want to know.

“Well, are you excited about the dogs, Yuuri? You love poodles! You said once you came home, you’d want to get another dog since Vicchan died. Is that still true?” she asked, leaning in. Looking around, she noticed something was missing. “Oh! Your medicine! I’ll be right back!”

Hiroko ran off, and Mari sat in her place.

“Dogs?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Any idea why she’s going ballistic?”

“Nope.”

Both siblings sighed.

Their mother came back a moment later, holding a hand out. “Take it.”

Yuuri did and washed it down with some tea.

“Why are you acting so strange, Okasaan?” Mari asked, saying exactly what Yuuri thought.

Their mother stared at them with wide eyes. Whatever the information was wanted to spew right out of her mouth, but before she could say anything, she shook her head. “Oh, nothing.”

Mari and Yuuri sighed again.

Yuuri ate the rest of his breakfast in silence. Every once in a while, his mother would go off and come back, bustling with an odd sense of excitement as she cleaned.

The inn was spotless. He didn’t know what she _could_ be cleaning.

After a while of watching her, he got up to put dishes away. Hiroko, however, sped up to his side and took the dishes. “Get ready, get ready! I’ll take you to therapy!”

Yuuri left his mother for the baths, confused but slightly amused.

You would’ve thought Ken Watanabe was stopping by from the way she was acting.

A quiet, surprising chuckle resonated through Yuuri. He forgot the last time he laughed.

It felt nice.

Since the chemotherapy session didn’t start for another two hours, Yuuri decided to shower first, then soak.

An hour passed, and he walked in from the hot spring clean and somewhat refreshed. He felt a little better than he had for the past few months. Something about actually hopping into the hot spring made it feel as if he shed months upon months of dead weight. By no means did he feel great. He was tired and weak, bruised and nauseous. But his soul felt just a bit lighter.

Maybe listening and truly seeing his family cared helped a bit.

Upon entering the dining room, Yuuri found himself looking at the back of his ballet teacher. She turned around and smiled at the sight of Yuuri standing there, clean and fresh-faced.

“Ooh, Yuuri! You’re looking nice today!” Minako gasped, running up to meet him.

“What brings you here? I don’t think anything is on TV…” Yuuri said, glancing over her shoulder. Figure skating was on the television.

Of course.

“I wanted to talk to you about dancing, actually.” Minako glanced over her shoulder, smiled, then turned back to face him. “Mari called me. She doesn’t like that you’re depressed and wants you to start coming back in. She thinks that exercising might help, you know.”

Yuuri felt his cheeks heat up. A defensive stroke in him screamed, “ _I do exercise!_ ”

Which was true. Yuuri _did_ exercise. Not as intensely as he did while skating, but he exercised. Stretches and long walks cleared his mind.

Another part of him felt guilty for not even attempting to go in. He loved ballet. He loved figure skating. He gave both of them up. Maybe, just maybe he could start dancing again.

He’d just have to find a time that he didn’t feel like rolling over and dying from fatigue.

“When did you want to start?” Yuuri asked.

Minako grinned. “Whenever is best for you. I don’t think today would be a day to start.”

“No. After chemo, I’m out.” Yuuri shamefully looked at the floor.

“You do what you need to and I’ll come up with specialized lessons for you…just like the classes you had when you were ten.” Minako patted his shoulder hesitantly before asking, “Want me to take you to chemo?”

Specialized classes weren’t as labor intensive and cut off whenever Yuuri needed a break. Yuuri, of course, was a fighter. He outdid himself more than not, even if it was ill-advised. He didn’t like to listen to the rules, of course. He never had.

“I guess. I think we should go now. The roads are slick.” Yuuri glanced outside. The snow continued to fall at a steady pace.

* * *

 

The medical center Yuuri had his treatments at tried its best to be welcoming to the patients. The inside was painted calming shades of blue and beige and the furniture was comfortable. If someone told Yuuri that the center wasn’t for cancer, he’d believe it.

Although the facade had gentle colors and made anyone feel at home, the heart of the hospital held dying patients, their lights flickering out constantly. Yuuri had never been back there, the chemotherapy room was towards the front of the building. But he’d heard and seen flashing lights, running doctors, and gurneys being rushed down the hallways.

Every time Yuuri saw something like that, he slipped into an existential crisis.

Usually, he’d think about what he’d do if he ever ended up hospital-bound. Only a couple of months back, he was in the hospital for bone marrow recovery. Of course, it was one of the last major treatments and the doctors had ensured that he was getting better. All of the chemo he was going through presently helped kill remaining cancer, which couldn’t be registered by blood tests. He went in twice every week.

Even if he was getting better, he felt hopeless.

Who knew if he’d be better forever? With his luck, he’d die by thirty.

Usually, Yuuri went in alone. His mother would drop him off and grocery shop or go home to rest for a few minutes before coming back to pick him up. They lived thirty minutes away from the center and didn’t feel like burning thirty minutes’ worth of gas each day. So, on Tuesdays, she left, went shopping, did a few other things, and came back. His treatments lasted two hours, after all, so it gave her enough time to get what she needed. On Thursdays, she’d drive home and leave him be until he needed to be picked up

This trip, however, was special. With Minako by his side, Yuuri knew she’d stay. What they’d talk about, he didn’t know. Probably what he’d _want_ to go over, what exercises he _was_ doing, and a minor background check before they planned anything big.

Maniko waited for him in the waiting room while the doctor performed a checkup. Like Yuuri thought, the doctor said he needed to lose some weight and that exercise was permitted as long as he wasn’t pushing himself too much.

The doctor was more than pleased when Yuuri announced he was dancing again.

After a few blood tests and a reinstated diet plan, Yuuri was ushered to the chemo room. Minako followed alongside him, the strap of her purse caught in her grasp.

The room consisted of four lounge chairs with a heart monitor and IV next to each. For any family members who wanted to tag along, double the amount of plastic chairs sat in the corner of the room. It smelled like medicine and was lit by the blue sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.

As Yuuri sat down, he felt a jitter roll through him, which typically happened when he became anxious. His shoulders shrugged slightly, his foot tapping slightly in a nervous tick. He hadn’t any idea why he was still afraid. After all, it had been a part of his life from a young age.

“Breathe, Yuuri,” a nurse said, walking in. She hung the medicine from the IV rack and began to prep it. “Do you use the techniques we talked about?”

Breathing techniques. His nurse knew he had anxiety. She gave him a sheet on breathing techniques that would help him calm down after breakdowns, but he threw it out accidentally. He didn’t really want help anyway.

A wave of shivers shot down Yuuri’s spine the minute the nurse stuck him with the IV.

“No, not really,” he answered honestly.

“Have you been going to the psychiatrist lately?” she asked more sternly, hooking up the heart monitor as well.

“No,” Yuuri mumbled, glancing in Minako’s direction. She placed the chair on the ground in front of him and sat.

Looking back at the nurse, Yuuri shrunk at the sight of the smirk on her face. He knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Girlfriend?”

“No, no, no!” Yuuri yelped, looking at his dance instructor. “No! My dance teacher!”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Yuuri! I won’t assume any further…” Once the nurse finished with attaching him to all of the monitors and IV, she stepped back. He realized he hadn’t even registered the needles under his skin. “You know where I’ll be. A few therapy dogs are coming in in about an hour. Would you like to have one?”

“Have one?” Yuuri cocked his head.

The nurse blushed. “Play with one.”

Yuuri nodded slightly, leaning back in his chair. He was beginning to feel a bit drowsy from the medicine he was given before coming in. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

The nurse grinned. “Okay. I’ll send one your way when they come in!”

With this, the nurse left Yuuri and Minako alone.

“You know,” Minako started, leaning back in her chair as well, “I really don’t understand why people think I would date you.”

“We’re in the same boat,” Yuuri replied, pulling his phone out. He decided that he might as well go on Instagram. It had been a while and since he was feeling just a bit better about himself and what he was doing, he decided it wouldn’t be an issue.

The first thing that showed up on his feed was a picture Viktor posted.

An eye mask covered his eyes, the name of a Russian airline stitched across it.

“Huh.”

Yuuri looked at Minako, who strained herself to see the picture.

“What?” he said.

“He wasn’t on the ice today. There was an interview with his coach and I didn’t see him anywhere. As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen him anywhere lately. Last I heard, he was going on a break for a season to consider his career.” Minako looked at Yuuri and shrugged. “Any idea why? You’re in love with him, not me. Though he is rather—”

“I get it, I get it,” Yuuri said, cringing. “But I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been keeping up with anything lately…”

Minako nodded sagely, looking at her own phone. She typed something quickly, then gasped. “He’s taking the season off even though he won gold… He said he wanted to spend time with his dog.”

“Makkachin is getting old,” Yuuri said, shrugging. “I get why.”

“Yeah, but completely stopping for a _dog_?”

“Maybe he’s tricking the press? I mean, why would he be flying?” Yuuri looked back at the picture, seeing it was posted several hours ago. “Wherever he is, there’ll be a major press presence.”

With that, Yuuri slipped his phone into his pocket and glanced at Minako.

Her eyes glimmered with a fiery spark. “So, getting back into dancing….”

He knew it.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his words almost slurring together. Yuuri was growing very tired. He almost always slept during the sessions, then went home and slept until dinner was ready.

“Sleep for now. You’re obviously tired. We can talk about your plans later, okay?” Minako smiled at Yuuri, and he smiled back, quickly falling asleep.

 

A slobbery, long stroke ran across Yuuri’s face, which pulled him from his sleep. He blinked a few times, looking around to see nothing but blurry blobs. All of a sudden, whoever sat next to him placed his glasses in his hands. He took the glasses and shoved them onto his face.

He stared into the eyes of Minako.

“Hey,” Yuuri murmured.

For some reason, her focus was solely on something else. Yuuri decided to follow her glance, seeing that the dog on top of him looked just like Vicchan.

Except it didn’t.

In light of being noticed, the silvery-beige poodle licked Yuuri’s cheek again and hopped from his lap, sitting at his side like he was on guard.

Yuuri looked back at Minako, eyes wide. “What’s its name?”

“Makkachin,” she said lowly, eyeing the dog with disbelief.

A lump developed in Yuuri’s throat. Looking back at the dog, he could tell now.

That was Viktor Nikiforov’s dog.

“No way,” he whispered, reaching out to pet the dog. “Makkachin isn’t a therapy dog….”

“The nurse told me to give you this...I read it. I didn’t mean to pry, but—”

Yuuri snatched the letter from her grip and read:

_Dear Yuuri,_

_Bring the dog back with you. We have a foreign guest and he belongs to him._

_Love you!_

_-Okaasan_

“Oh my God,” Yuuri whispered, staring at the note. “Oh my God!”

“I know!” Minako said, almost yelling. Makkachin turned towards her, eyeing her before looking at Yuuri with his big, brown eyes. His tail wagged ferociously, his mouth hung open as he panted.

Yuuri couldn’t help but pet him.

“ _Why_ is Viktor Nikiforov at Yu-topia?!” Minako gasped, checking her phone desperately. “Why is he even in Hasetsu?! This is a nowhere town!”

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond. All he could do was stare at Makkachin.

“Ah, I see you’re finally up!” the nurse said as she entered. Yuuri turned to her, completely flushed and entirely confused.

Why in the hell would Viktor Nikiforov decide to take a vacation and go to Hasetsu out of all places?

“You look a bit starstruck, dear.” The nurse laughed, taking out his IV. “I’ll just need to check vitals and you’ll be on your way.”

 

Chemo brain. That had to be it. Yuuri chuckled, sipping from a bottle of water the nurse gave him. This was some type of hallucination, though he was pretty sure that wasn’t a symptom.

Yuuri smelled the water.

Just water as far as he knew.

“You’re acting weird,” Minako said, glancing at him through her peripheral. “This is actually happening, Yuuri.”

The next thing he expected was for tentacles to sprout from her head, but they didn’t. He pinched himself.

No, he wasn’t dreaming.

Sitting back up, Yuuri turned around to look at the dog in the backseat.

Still there, real as ever.

The next couple of minutes were completely silent, yet Yuuri felt like five million fireworks burst in his chest.

Viktor Nikiforov.

At Yu-topia.

Makkachin in the backseat.

Oh, God. Had Viktor seen his room?

Yuuri wanted to disappear.

By the time they reached home, Yuuri was beyond nervous. Both legs bouncing, head buried in his hands, he almost refused to get out of the car. Beyond the walls sat Viktor Nikiforov somewhere, doing who knew what.

Oh, God. What was he doing?

Just before Minako could open his door, he threw it open and barreled towards the house. Exhausted from the chemo but overtaken by excitement, he ran into the house and stopped to take a few breaths.

“So, you heard the news?” Hiroko chuckled, walking in to greet her son.

Makkachin ran in, sitting by Yuuri’s legs.

“Yeah, I did,” he panted, trying to regain composure. He kept himself steady by keeping one hand on the wall. “Where is he?”

“Hot spring.”

Yuuri took off.

It had been a while since Yuuri ran like he did. He ran with purpose, with excitement. Even if he did feel like he was about to collapse from exhaustion, even if his body didn’t like such an intense sprint, Yuuri liked filling his lungs with air.

It felt like he could really breathe again.

Yuuri slowed down his final steps, yet tumbled through the door in a burst of excitement. Anxious and exhilarated, Yuuri gazed over the hot spring, finding Viktor soaking. He stood there, mouth agape. “V-Viktor…why are you here?”

Slightly blushing, but holding a sophisticated demeanor, Viktor stood. With daring blue eyes, he took in Yuuri’s sorry state and puffed his chest just slightly. Extending one arm towards the younger man with grace, he smiled, saying, “Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor Nikiforov never ceased to surprise Yuuri, not even a little bit.

The twenty-three-year-old’s eyes had been plastered on the skater for over ten years, and it seemed he’d mastered the element of surprise. Each season, Viktor would pull something new from his sleeve. Something innovative, informative. He liked to tell stories through music and choreography, and every little thing he did made an impression on the young Katsuki. Yuuri would watch the stories intricately unfold and try to make meaning of the magic glimmering before him. He wanted to know what ran through Viktor’s mind with each Flip, Lutz, Salchow, Axel, and Loop. Every time, he felt that he got so close, but he would never truly know.

That remained true. Both surprise and the uncertainty of what Viktor thought remained with him, at least to Yuuri, even as he sat in the onsen, doing who knew what.

After the hot springs encounter, Yuuri was too distressed to speak. He stood there, like a statue, stupefied at what he registered in his blind fluster, staring at Viktor like he had gone absolutely mad.

First off, he hadn’t any idea what drew him out there in the first place and secondly, his idol stood in front of him, absolutely naked without any shame.

Yuuri could never stand the way he did, so broad and prominent like a god. That was all Viktor ever was to Yuuri up until that point: a shiny, untouchable, immortal being.

But there he was, blaringly loud and incredibly close, standing in Yuuri’s own backyard. Viktor _knew_ his name, he _acknowledged_ his former passion. Viktor Nikiforov knew someone like Katsuki Yuuri existed, and the younger man couldn’t wrap his mind around that.

Only years before, he was a boy with twinkling umber eyes, looking up at the podium in complete awe.

Now, he sat in his room, a fanboy, surrounded by a million glaring eyes, all icy blue and belonging to the same man who looked at him so passionately at the hot spring.

This was crazy.

It’d been thirty minutes since Yuuri hidey-holed in his room. He knew it was rude, but with the way his heart pounded out his chest and eyes stung with exhaustion, he had an excuse.

In those past thirty minutes, instead of napping, however, Yuuri scoured the internet, seeing if there was anything news-related that could’ve drawn someone like Viktor Nikiforov to him.

Viktor chose _him_ , Katsuki Yuuri, a little dreamer from Hasetsu.

A warm rush flooded Yuuri’s face at the very thought.

So far, he couldn’t find anything. Whatever it was, it had to be buried under embarrassing videos of his mishap at the Grand Prix Final. He tried filtering, scrolling past, doing anything to try and find a video of him that could have enthralled someone like Viktor, but couldn’t quite see anything.

Yuuri huffed, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a drum, frustrated and anxious from the entire situation.

Why?

Yuuri could not stop asking himself, “ _Why?_ ”

Adjusting his glasses—they always fell to the tip of his nose—Yuuri decided to type in something else: the club he skated for in Detroit.

Maybe they posted something.

Almost instantly, an interview with Celestino popped up. It read:

  _Losing A Rising Star—Interview With Coach Celestino About Student’s Battle With Cancer._

The title itself sounded like clickbait, which it was. But it would grab the attention of wandering eyes.  Yuuri didn’t die. He simply retired.

Yuuri remembered when a news reporter was sent to their club. It was just before he started treatments. He was working nonstop on one of Viktor’s previous programs. (After doing so poorly, the love for skating began to flicker out and he wanted to reignite it.)

Maybe, Yuuri thought, it was caught on film. He just had to see.

Clicking the link, the phone redirected to YouTube and opened the video.

Like he thought, it panned out on him, skating Viktor’s “Stay Close to Me” program. He skated it just in time, right on pace, and just as accurate as Viktor’s best performance from what he remembered. It was entirely surprising, seeing himself soar.  

An icy breeze shot up his spine. Watching himself perform something so intricate while sick made Viktor’s proposal seem all the more attainable.

This was the first time Yuuri missed the ice since he found out about his cancer.

A desire to be as good as he was struck like a flint against steel. His heart ignited all of a sudden, Viktor’s offer looking all the more desirable as he watched himself attempt and land a quad.

 _I was trying so hard not to pass out_ , Yuuri thought, eyes glued to the screen.

Suddenly, the camera drifted, redirecting towards the news anchor and Celestino. Yuuri could still see himself in the back, huffing and puffing, holding a bloodied rag to his nose.  As soon as he finished, it had begun to bleed and Phichit insisted he needed to take a break.

Celestino looked so proud, eyes twinkling.

“Hello, I am here with Celestino Cialdini, taking a glimpse of his professional skaters. Here they are behind us, practicing for next year’s round of competitions!” The news anchor flapped his arm about, looking quite birdish as he did.

“Yes, yes. I am very proud. I am most proud of Mr. Yuuri Katsuki at the moment, but he will not be performing anytime soon.” Celestino turned towards the rink, the twinkle in his eyes burning out. “Next year, maybe. But he is battling cancer. He found out this past Grand Prix Final only hours before his program.”

The video shifted and faded, revealing a newer looking interview. Celestino sat in front of the interviewer, across from him, hands folded and eyes dull.

“As we saw, this interview was conducted only months before. Since then, Yuuri Katsuki has retired. Have we any information about that?” the interviewer asked.

Celestino was about to answer, but Yuuri couldn’t take it anymore.

He turned the phone off and tossed it on the bed, huddling himself. Knees pressed to his chest, face buried in the crook between his kneecaps, he sat there, breathing slowly and heavily.

Yuuri used to always pay attention, especially if the article was about him. It had been a while, and whether he liked it or not, it was all too overwhelming taking it in at once.

Shaking, yet curious, Yuuri reached for his phone. He unlocked it, lifting his eyes to see the screen. Going back to the internet, he typed in his Detroit skating club again and found himself looking at thousands of articles, all about him. No one quite knew how he was doing, but they all knew he was bald, overweight, and getting treatment in Japan.

Yuuri instinctively reached for the beanie under his bed and tugged it on, feeling a little more self-conscious than usual.

In times like that, with his name plastered all over skating news articles, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. Like the spotlight was on him and him only.

To feel a little better about himself, he decided to look something else up.

Well, _someone_ else.

The minute he pressed “go”, a shiny, new article popped up on the spot.

Coach _Viktor Nikiforov?!_

Yuuri clicked on it, curious.

No video accompanied it, but from what he could see, Yakov Feltsmen and Yuri Plisetsky were quite perturbed by his sudden idea to take off for the season to coach the “mysterious skater”.

Yuri Plisetsky.

The Ice Tiger.

The Russian Punk.

Yuuri shivered at the thought of him, the thought of the encounter they only had months before. It haunted him like a bad dream when he wasn’t thinking of anything in particular and his anxiety was testy.

After the Grand Prix Final, Yuri found him in the restroom, crying quite pathetically. The little punk kicked at his door, demanded he retired, and called him a moron all in the same breath.

Yuuri couldn’t quite forget that.

Deciding that he was becoming too tired to read any more of the article, Yuuri turned off his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped his sheets around his body. Sleep enveloped him soon after.

 

For the second time that day, Yuuri woke up to Makkachin licking his face in salutation. He didn’t remember falling asleep with his glasses on, but when he sat up and reached for them, he found that his vision was already at its optimum.

 _Note to self_ , he thought, adjusting his glasses, _remember to take your glasses off_.

Yuuri stretched out like he always did, back popping and shoulders stiff, probably from sleeping in an awkward position. He always stretched, completely losing flexibility was the last thing he wanted. So, the sudden aches in his shoulders were alarming. He told himself everyone slept weird sometimes, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

Makkachin licked his face again.

Somewhat amused, Yuuri ran his hand along the dog’s back, earning a wagging tail and bright, dark eyes staring him over.

“You want me to get out of bed, don’t you?” Yuuri asked the dog, who hopped off his bed and sauntered towards the door.

He took that as a yes.

Standing up, Yuuri stretched out, touching his toes, stretching out his back, loosening himself up. He felt calmer, more at ease, even though he knew Viktor sat out there, somewhere in the onsen. It didn’t shake Yuuri, oddly, and he was glad of it. His nerves were down, but his walls were still rock solid.

To get Yuuri’s attention, the poodle barked. Immediately, he looked at Makkachin and almost laughed. He missed having a dog around. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

The dog led him out, and he followed behind.

Yuuri followed Makkachin all the way to the onsen’s main dining room, finding Viktor splayed across the ground in the inn’s robes, fast asleep, but looking like a part of him was missing. This confused Yuuri until Makkachin lay beside his owner and cuddled with the man. This sprang Viktor’s touch.  He melted into the cuddle and hugged the dog to his chest.

Yuuri smiled at the sight, sitting down on the other side of the table.

A hand clapped against his shoulder and he nearly screamed.

“Yuuri, is what he told me while you were locked up in your room true?!” Minako sank down next to him, eyes wide and surprised.

“What did he say?” Yuuri gulped.

“He’s going to coach you! He saw a video of you in an article that pronounced your retirement and said you were too good to quit! He saw the video of you skating to his program perfectly!” Minako glanced at Viktor, then Yuuri.

“You knew about the video?” Yuuri asked indignantly.

“It was a big news in Russia when it first surfaced! Viktor even spoke on it! Did you not know?!”

“No, I didn’t!” Yuuri frantically looked at Viktor’s sleeping frame and felt a beet-red blush rush to his face. He tugged at his beanie, which was sliding off, and sniffed. “I told you, I didn’t get on my phone at all for the past few months!”

“He said that he was ready to share the ice with you again once you got better, that you were a good competitor and was simply stunned by the news! Yuuri, he saw you as an equal! That’s amazing!” Minako exclaimed.

“B-but why did he come now…?” Yuuri stammered, in awe of the news he was hearing.

“I told you, he doesn’t want you to quit! Yuuri, he wants you to go on!” Minako squealed, clearly proud.

Viktor wanted to coach him so they could compete….

Yuuri’s heart did a quad flip in his chest.

“What are you thinking, Yuuri? Are you going to accept?” Minako asked, patting his arm gently.

“Who am I to say no…?” Yuuri whispered, looking over his idol. “He knows there’s no way I’ll be physically ready to compete for the next Grand Prix, right?”

“I mentioned that and he said, ‘We’ll see.’”

“There’s no ‘We’ll see’ about it, Minako. Unless I take on intense workouts and training sessions, I won’t be ready for another year. I have to work up to it. That’s what the doctor said.” A growing anxiety began to bubble in Yuuri’s chest. He couldn’t do it, not that fast.

“Since when did you listen to authority?” Minako chuckled.

“I’ll die if I don’t listen, or worse, injure myself beyond repair.” Yuuri gulped.

“You need to sort out your priorities, Yuuri,” Minako mumbled.

Yuuri laughed, then sighed. What were they doing, just watching him sleep?

“How long has he been there?”

“After he got out of the hot spring, he ate dinner and fell asleep. Probably jet lag. He came straight from Russia and had to wait in the airport for Aeroflot for quite some time.” Minako laughed. “This is all so strange!”

Yuuri mentally agreed.

“Yuuri, he chose you. You inspired him and he chose you out of all skaters…”

“I’m a charity case, Minako. Don’t get any ideas,” Yuuri mumbled, staring at the Russian skater, the living, breathing human being.

Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t just an idol, he wasn’t just a poster hanging on his wall. He cuddled with his dog when he slept and looked vulnerable. Yuuri could almost touch him. He was at arm’s length.

Viktor Nikiforov wasn’t a stone cold statue, after all. He was a warm figure, cuddly, outgoing….

Yuuri admired him as he lay there.

Until Viktor began to stir. Sneezing, he sat up, hugging Makkachin to his chest. He blinked a few times, looking disoriented until he looked straight at Yuuri. He sniffed, saying, “I’m starving.”

When it registered that Viktor was talking to _him_ , Yuuri panicked and nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Um, what would you like to eat?” he squeaked.

Viktor bowed his head, considering it with a hum. His eyes sunk to the top of Makkachin’s head, then refocused on Yuuri. “As your coach, I’d like to know what your favorite food is, Yuuri.”

His favorite food. Katsudon. Delicious, delicious katsudon. He licked his lips at the thought.

“Uh, katsudon.” Yuuri tugged at his beanie, cheeks flushing.

“Kat-su-what?” Viktor cocked his head, his fringe falling in its typical style in front of his eyes.

“Oh, it’s a pork cutlet bowl.” Yuuri gulped.

Viktor nodded. “Okay, Katsudon.”

“You got it,” Minako chuckled, winking.

 

“Wow! Amazing!” Viktor gasped the minute Hiroko set the large bowl in front of Viktor. Yuuri watched from the other side of the table, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes peeking over the tops. Viktor looked in love with the food that Yuuri grew up eating.

Hiroko took this as a compliment. She sunk down to her knees, saying, “Our specialty, katsudon, extra-large!”

Viktor hummed, picking up a piece of the pork with his chopsticks. He blew on it, then took a bite.

The Russian’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, his face heating up. He looked straight at Hiroko, gasping, “Vkusno!”

In Yuuri’s obsession, he started studying a little bit of Russian. He knew the common words, such as dasvidaniya, which meant goodbye and vkusno, which meant tasty.

It was good Viktor enjoyed it. Yuuri wouldn’t be able to since his tongue was short-circuiting.

Chewing and swallowing, Viktor rambled on, saying, “Delicious! Too good for words!” He took another bite, and with his mouth full, he said, “Is this what God eats?!”

Yuuri slid into a criss-cross sitting position, shoulders shifting as he admired his idol. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You know,” Minako said, side-eyeing Yuuri, “Yuuri gains weight easily, so he was only allowed to eat it when he won a competition. Right?”

Yuuri froze, staring at Minako through his peripheral. Why did she bring that up?

_Lord have mercy on my soul._

Viktor looked awfully engaged, taking a bite of his food, chewing, swallowing, and saying, “Oh? So have you eaten katsudon recently?”

Yuuri was completely flushed, his throat going dry. He sipped on his tea, muttering, “Yes, but it’s beginning to lose its flavor. With the chemotherapy.”

The bustle of the onsen stopped at those words. Everyone who had ever been around Yuuri knew that he loved katsudon like a lover.

“I see two flaws in that, Yuuri,” Viktor said, overturning the bout of silence. He held up a slice of the pork, gazing over it with analytical eyes. “First off, I do not believe you’ve won anything as of recently.”

Viktor’s words practically slapped him across the face.

“And secondly, this doesn’t look like a healthy meal a cancer patient should eat. Does your oncologist know you’re eating this?” Viktor gazed past the pork and straight into Yuuri’s eyes, putting him on the spot.

“I-uh, he tells me not to eat them too often. My stomach hasn’t been quite cooperative with them as of late, so…” Yuuri’s eyes sunk to his lap, filled with shame.

“Do you have a regime with your oncologist? It doesn’t appear so, and with that pig’s body of yours, lessons would be meaningless.” Viktor smiled, clearly testy, continuing with, “You need to get back to your weight at last year’s Grand Prix Final, at the least.” Viktor glanced at his bowl, picking at the last grain of rice in the bowl and eating it before looking at Yuuri in complete seriousness. “Or I can never coach you. Now, I want your dietary plan in my hands as soon as possible. Okay, little piggy?”

Yuuri was quite obviously stunned by Viktor’s words for two reasons. First off, Viktor spoke directly to him. Not only that, but he also spoke more harshly to him than anyone else had in the past six months. It was both comforting and insulting at the same time.

“Huh? I feel like I should be offended…” And he was, but he knew Viktor was right. He needed to get back on his feet.

Finally, Yuuri was tired of being depressed. He saw that light at the end of the tunnel and he felt like if he followed the stepping stones Viktor so intricately placed in front of him, he’d be able to see the light of day as it was when he wasn’t surrounded by the dark.

“You don’t expect me to do this in under three or four months, right?” Yuuri gulped, coming to terms that Viktor was, indeed, human. “I’ll die!”

“That I will take up with your doctor, Yuuri,” Viktor said nonchalantly, setting his chopsticks by his empty bowl. “I want this to happen as soon as possible, but I am flexible with the scheduling, as you have to be. I am not an unreasonable person.”

Yuuri just nodded. “Will you want my doctor’s number too?”

“Yes, but I can obtain it at your next chemotherapy session. Mind if I follow in tow?” Viktor smiled genuinely this time, no sign of frustration.

“By all means,” Yuuri said, voice cracking and heart fluttering at the thought of Viktor sitting beside him during his chemotherapy.

“Hey, this luggage is in the way,” Mari sighed from the hall, rounding the door to find the two men sitting there, Minako observing silently and Hiroko already off in the fit of business to attend to. She didn’t seem the least bit interested, but rather annoyed as she stared straight at Viktor who smiled quite precariously while waving at her.

“Can you take it to the room where I’ll be staying?”

Minako and Yuuri glanced at each other, shocked. “Staying?” they asked in unison.

 

So, Mari, Minako, and Yuuri moved the boxes. While Yuuri insisted doing the heavy lifting to kickstart any sort of toning exercise, the girls insisted he didn’t lift anything too heavy. But then again, there wasn’t too much _to_ lift. Only a few boxes were heavy and Yuuri carried one of them.

All of the boxes were placed in Viktor’s suite in no time.

“Wow, what a classic, tiny room!” Viktor gasped, spinning in a three-sixty. He truly seemed in awe, and completely enamored by the fact that he would be staying there for who knew how long. Makkachin sat at his feet, wagging his tail ferociously.  Upon turning back towards Yuuri he asked, “Is there a sofa?”

Yuuri sat on the ground, leaning against one of the heftier boxes. He hated to admit it, but the move winded him. He was tired, really, and wanted to go to sleep, even though he had just woken up. He knew his mother would make him eat something, he needed to eat before he went to bed. But he was just so tired.

“Hmm?” Yuuri mumbled, then registered what Viktor said. “No…I’m sorry it’s so small. We only had an unused banquet room available.”

Viktor nodded pensively, eyes scanning the room again before falling on Yuuri. He cocked his head, the silvery-blonde fringe of his falling into his eyes. “You look anxious and exhausted.” His face warmed up, eyes gleaming as he winked at Yuuri. “You’ll thank me eventually. You can pay the coaching fee after you achieve success! I’ll bill you later.”

Yuuri blanched, gulping. He still couldn’t quite believe the fact that the man in front of him wanted to be his coach. “Th-thank you.”

Viktor looked so satisfied with himself, the warmth on his face heating the room. Really, his beaming attitude was almost contagious. Yuuri felt calmer as the man sunk down in front of him, kneeling meeting eye contact.

And suddenly, an arctic breeze rolled through, anxiety grasping him at the sight of Viktor Nikiforov so close.

The man seemed to notice, the smile becoming even more genuine, if that was possible.

“Yuuri, tell me everything about you.” Viktor’s hand swiftly approached Yuuri’s face, fingers delicately tilting Yuuri’s chin up ever so slightly to make better eye contact. His fingers burned Yuuri, yet Viktor drew him in like a moth to flame.

“What kind of rink do you skate at? What’s in this city? Is there anyone you like?” Yuuri flushed deeply, heart rattling inside his ribcage. So much touching, his body was on fire. To make things either better or worse, depending on the perspective, Viktor’s free hand sunk to Yuuri’s and took it, long, graceful fingers caressing the back of his chapped hand.

“Before we start practicing,” Viktor hummed, words resonating in his chest, only lessening the distance between them, “let’s build some trust in our relationship.”

Yuuri was on fire, bursting flames. Viktor was too hot, burning him down, turning him to ash. He had to get away, he had to break free before he fell apart. So, he pushed himself away, flustered, scared even, staring at Viktor from across the way once he was far enough from the other. The fire extinguished. He was saved.

“What?” Viktor said, almost disappointed. “Why are you running away?”

Yuuri couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t. “Uh…no reason. I-I’m just going to grab the dietary plan, and then if Minako is still here, we can, uh, figure out a regime, I guess.”

A more stoic look glazed Viktor’s eyes. “All right. Back in the dining hall?”

Yuuri stood, collecting his mental baggage which seemed to completely spew out at Viktor’s mere touch. “Y-yeah. I’ll just...meet you there.”

Yuuri wanted to throw up. His stomach tied itself in knots, his head woozy. What he really needed to do was lie down and sleep, but there was so much to do with Viktor and Minako. Of course, they could do it tomorrow, but he knew that if he wanted to get in track right away, he needed to start as soon as possible. He could sleep in, he decided. But what was sleeping in to Viktor? When would he make him wake up and go for a run around Hasetsu?

 It was all so much at once, but it wasn’t the moment to be weak. He needed to take what was happening and put a positive light on it. After all, his idol flew all the way to Japan and was to stay at the inn just to be with _him_.

Yuuri felt better just thinking of that.

After fetching the papers with his dietary information, Yuuri walked back out to the dining area and sat across from where Viktor previously sat. Minako was still there, sipping on sake.

“Where’s your darling?” Minako said, taking the papers. She gazed over them, nodding subtly.

Yuuri sighed, annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t help but blush. “He should be here—“

“Papers?” Viktor said from behind, rounding the chabudai. He sat criss-cross, gratefully taking the papers from Minako when she passed them over. “So, we want to lay out a schedule, figure out the proper time to start him on the ice without it being too hectic on his body while it runs on chemotherapy. I believe he dances with you, right?”

Minako beamed, nodding. “We were discussing this today, actually. And everything he does has to be specialized. His tempo. Not labor intensive. But Yuuri’s a fighter. He’ll outdo himself, even if it isn’t advised. That’s what he did when he had leukemia when he was younger.” The dance instructor gently squeezed his arm in affection.

Viktor looked slightly surprised. “Childhood leukemia?”

Yuuri, finally being acknowledged, nodded.

“Okay,” Viktor mumbled, eyes falling on the paper. Not too much was noted, only things he should avoid and suggestions for what would be considered a healthy diet for someone like Yuuri. It also listed recommended times for eating and what kinds of exercises were suitable for him. Viktor’s brow furrowed at the sight. He appeared to not be too pleased.

Yuuri squirmed slightly, foot thudding against the ground anxiously.

“This is barely anything to go by,” Viktor said in finality, setting the printed papers on the table. “I guess he wants you to have control of what you do, but the problem is that the control you do have is inconsistent. We’ll need to make a strict plan to go by. Yuuri,” the coach said, turning to his student, “I need you to take out your phone. Take notes. These _are_ for you.”

Yuuri did what Viktor instructed immediately, nudging his glasses up his nose. Once he pulled up the notes, he glanced back up at the instructor. Nodding slightly, Viktor was cued to continue.

“As your coach, I think it is important that I make a regime that I expect from you, but since you are ill, I will take that into account. Also, before we enforce any of this, I will consult with your doctor. When is the next time you have chemotherapy?”

“Every Tuesday and Thursday, so my next appointment is in five days.” Yuuri shifted slightly, uncomfortable from Viktor’s gaze. Next appointment also determined how much longer he needed to be on chemo.

“Hmm, so these next few days will be a bit of a limbo, eh?” Viktor chuckled, nodding some fringe from his eyes. “The morning starts at eight. I’ll have breakfast for us by half eight and we’ll go on a light jog at nine. We’ll get back at ten and bathe, then soak. Then, we can go to Minako’s and begin on light ballet. By eleven, I would like to go to Ice Castle and see your fundamentals. The rest of the day, I’d like to see the city. How does that sound?”

“Demanding,” Minako mumbled, staring at Viktor.

“Ambitious,” Yuuri said, disturbed by how active the plan was.

Not that he didn’t want to do it. He did. But all of that? He was healing.

 _Stop making excuses_ , Yuuri thought.

“Good plan, right?” Viktor beamed, adjusting his sitting position. “Did you get that, Yuuri?”

 

“Goodnight, boys! Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Minako hiccupped, heading towards the door. She waved her hand genially as she exited, the door slamming behind her. A few guests mumbled in disturbance, but hushed quickly.

“I do like her,” Viktor said, standing up. He offered a hand to Yuuri out of kindness, but Yuuri, anxious and paranoid towards touch, smiled and stood on his own accord.

“Th-thank you, though,” he made sure to say.

Viktor nodded in acknowledgment. “How do you feel about our plan?”

For the past thirty minutes, Viktor and Minako made up both a dietary and activity regime for Yuuri for the next couple of weeks. Of course, Yuuri was acknowledged only once, but from what he heard, he agreed with their ideas. Most of his diet was composed of fiber-rich foods, protein-packed meals. The caloric intake wasn’t as high as it was when he was at his peak of professional figure skating, but then again, he wasn’t as active. And Katsudon was _not_ on his menu.

He hoped he could actually taste the food he was given and wouldn’t throw it up. Of course, Viktor had an alternative for if he was to have nausea and vomiting but said the six small meals a day should help with said issues.

The working out wasn’t anything hard, but then again, he was always so tired. That was what Yuuri dreaded.

Otherwise, the plan was just fine.

“Seems solid, I guess,” Yuuri finally answered, just missing eye contact with Viktor. “I want to go to sleep… It’s been a long day and chemo makes me exhausted.”

“Sure.” Still, out of Yuuri’s peripheral, he could see Viktor smile. How could he smile so much? “I like your hat, by the way.”

Yuuri could feel the tips of his ears blaze at the compliment. Still, he wouldn’t look. He just said, “Thank you. Good night,” in a rush.

Ambling to the hall, Yuuri felt his heart rate speed up. Viktor complimented him and he choked up.

“I thought you retired,” Mari said, joining him down the hall.

“I can’t tell him that I give up. I know I’m weak but…Viktor made the ice so much more enjoyable. He’s the reason I became a pro in the first place. He wants me to come back, Mari. He thinks I’m good.”

“And earlier today, you said you were helpless,” Mari laughed, patting his shoulder. “Welcome back. We missed you.”

Mari turned into her room, leaving Yuuri alone and he smiled in spite of himself.

Trailing into his room and closing the door, Yuuri let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He was all alone.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Well, he thought he was.

“Yuuri, are you still up? Let’s sleep together!” Viktor said through the door.

Yuuri’s throat went dry, eyes bulging at the statement.

Viktor, in his room?

Yuuri looked around in a panic, staring back at a million and two eyes of Viktor Nikiforov.

“As your coach, there is so much I need to learn about you.”

Yuuri cursed the door for not having a lock. He stood against it, saying, “No!”

“Yuuri!”

Immediately, Yuuri ran from the door and began to tear the posters down one by one, careful with the corners. (Most of them were collectibles, so they were expensive.)

“Yuuri!”

By the time Yuuri pulled all of the posters from the wall, he was breathless and on the bed, staring at the posters in his hands.

All of them were of the man that so desperately wanted to speak to him. He was just outside the door.

Viktor was an idol, put on such a high pedestal. But he was human. He didn’t ascend from the heavens. He was just like Yuuri.

“Yuuri?”

They barely even spoke. Yuuri never thought himself to be at Viktor’s level, but now he was right there, right in front of him, staying at the inn.

Scooting the pictures under his bed, Yuuri walked towards the door and cracked it slightly, finding sparkling cerulean eyes staring down into his. This time, Yuuri ignored the flush on his cheeks. “Not tonight, Viktor. But maybe when I feel better, okay?”

Thankfully, Viktor respected his wishes. He disappeared, entering the banquet hall he claimed as a room and Yuuri lay down, getting comfortable for the night.

Although Yuuri was comfortable and was quite ready to go to sleep. He couldn’t. Not quite yet. A jovial, bubbling feeling in his gut kept him roused. His heart clambered, hands were clammy. Yuuri felt as though he was a complete mess, but he knew what it was.

A smile erupted on his face, eyes tearing with sincerely gracious tears.

 _I get it now_ , Yuuri thought, grinning from ear to ear, _I’m_ actually _happy! My heart’s pounding because of how happy I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 30 kudos!!! Love you all!!!
> 
> I did have a question!
> 
> What do you like most about my writing style? What's my signature? Like, am I good at plot (lol no), setting, dialogue? I really don't know what my strong suit is. I've never really thought about it.
> 
> I just wanted to see what other people think.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Until next Monday!


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor kept his promises. That much was for sure.

Yuuri woke up the minute Makkachin slobbered all over his face, and opened his eyes to the outline of a blurry figure, presumably Viktor until he put on his glasses. Then it  _ was _ Viktor. 

“You should’ve woken up thirty minutes ago, Yuuri,” he said in a matter-of-factly tone, like it didn’t anger him too much. “We may have a bit of a push back, but we have a flexible schedule.”

While Viktor acted nonchalant, like he wasn’t upset, Yuuri couldn’t help but mentally melt down. Day one and he was already flubbing? 

Christ, he was ridiculous. 

“I’m so sorry, Viktor! I just—I overslept and I didn’t mean to, I—“

Viktor held a hand up, stopping Yuuri from rambling an exhaustion-fueled apology. “I could tell you were exhausted when this woke everyone but you.” In Viktor’s hand was Yuuri’s phone. “I like your lock screen, by the way.” As soon as the screen lit up, Yuuri cringed. It was a picture of Viktor. 

“I—“

“No need to explain, Yuuri. Breakfast is ready. Come on, we have a busy day.” Viktor sat the phone back on Yuuri’s bed and exited, Makkachin following in tow. 

Very slowly, Yuuri climbed out of bed and stretched like he always did. Again, his shoulders ached. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. 

But it didn’t hurt to mention it. 

What would Viktor do though? He wasn’t a doctor. But he  _ was _ a professional skater. Surely, he had a suggestion. 

Sighing, Yuuri lumbered out to the dining room and plopped across from Viktor. “I have a question.”

“Shoot,” Viktor said, picking up his bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other. 

“What do you do when your shoulders ache?” Yuuri cleared his throat, reaching for the water and pills in front of him. 

“Oh, your shoulders hurt? I can massage them if you want me to! I can do it right now, actually! Let me—“

“No, no! It’s okay!” Yuuri yelped, despite his shoulders yearning for some sort of relax. “It’s okay.”

“Yuuri, let me help you,” Viktor almost whined, taking a bite of his egg. “I’m supposed to help you. I’m your coach!”

_ Coaches don’t wipe their students’ asses _ , Yuuri thought, but refrained but saying anything other than, “I know…” 

“So, I can massage your shoulders? Let me tell you, I’m an expert—“

“No, Viktor! No rubbing shoulders. I...just, no..” Yuuri tossed the medication into his mouth and quickly washed it down with the water. “The hot spring will help. I’m okay.”

Viktor, in a stoic manner, nodded. “I want to help you.”

“I know,” Yuuri said, taking a bite of the rice. “Thank you.”

Viktor nodded with a grunt. 

The two ate in silence for a while, which made Yuuri anxious. There really wasn’t much to discuss, so he hadn’t any idea of why it put him on wit’s end. Maybe it was the fact that Yuuri was still coming down from cloud nine. Maybe it would take a while for Yuuri to get used to the fact that someone thought he was  _ excellent _ at figure skating. Maybe it would take months to get used to the fact that Viktor would coach him until he was ready for the Grand Prix Final. 

The very thought of going back to all the competitions and stressful situations made Yuuri’s stomach curl. 

Setting the chopsticks down, Yuuri took a deep breath. Nausea stirred his stomach about, but he would be okay. 

He tended to grow sick when he thought too much. 

“All right, Yuuri?”

Those dangerously blue eyes could beam right through Yuuri. He smiled lamely, nodding. 

“Don’t just say that,” Viktor said, setting the chopsticks and bowl down. “I can tell you’re not. You look as pale as my toosh during the summer.” 

“I’m fine, really,” Yuuri said, flushing at Viktor’s somewhat lewd comment. “I’m nauseous, but exercising helps.”

“Oh, okay.” Viktor furrowed his brow, taking another bite of his food. 

Again, silence. 

Yuuri watched Viktor in the silence of their breakfast and didn’t care if he looked up to notice. Yuuri happened to be rather good at reading expressions and people like open books when he had the time to concentrate. Viktor, from what he understood, was more like a diary on ice. He kept his secrets locked up, but anyone knew they were there. 

However, as they sat on the tatamis, eating across from each other, Yuuri could almost look inside of Viktor’s very thoughts. He didn’t even need to pick the lock. 

From what he could tell, Viktor was restraining himself. It was evident in how he gripped on the bottom of the bowl and how tight the grasp around his chopsticks was. Viktor was stressed. Yuuri saw it in the way certain strands of hair caught the light. Gray hairs. Yuuri wondered if Viktor knew and ignored it or wore it as a fashion statement. Either way, just by the way he held himself, even with the lightness of it all, Viktor was holding himself back. Yuuri didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Yuuri wasn’t a touchy person and Viktor could tell that much. Obviously, Viktor was very hands on. 

But that wasn’t it. That couldn’t be it. 

Yuuri wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find the words. They barely knew each other, and maybe Viktor would’ve been weirded out if Yuuri confessed that he analyzed Viktor. He used to on TV, but never close up. 

It was all so strange. 

“You need to eat, Yuuri. Running on an empty stomach, especially with your medicine, will not be forgiving,” Viktor said—something, finally—and looked at him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Yuuri blurted out all of a sudden, all of the thoughts he built up spewing. “Helping me. Am I a charity case?”

Viktor almost laughed, shaking his head immediately. He set the empty bowl and chopsticks down. “You’re silly. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Yeah, but—“

“No, no buts. I do this because I want to. Maybe, when we open up, I can explain more. But I’m doing this because I see a lot in you, Yuuri.” Viktor grinned. “Besides, you’re a little old for Make A Wish, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbled. “I used that on the Winter Olympics in Turin…”

 

Running always helped Yuuri calm down when he needed to blow off steam. With each step, it was like he was running from the problems he left behind in the first place. Farther and farther he’d wind up from the issue, cold air circulating through his lungs. It felt like life itself forced itself down Yuuri’s throat, and sometimes, that’s what he needed. 

Running to the beat of whatever song he was listening to helped as well. It kept him at a pace that didn’t exert all his energy or kept it all pent up. He had a playlist for running, which all involved songs that kept him at a steady pace. It had been a while since he ran,  _ really  _ ran, and he missed every part of it. 

Viktor ran alongside him, keeping up the pace, but barely. Yuuri always took pride in his stamina and it made him happy he could actually outdo Viktor Nikiforov in  _ something _ .

It made Viktor a little more human, and Yuuri liked seeing him red-faced for a change. 

Viktor ran beside Yuuri, panting by the time Uptown Funk finished. 

Although Viktor was the coach, Yuuri had a say in when they stopped. So, he did and grabbed Viktor, keeping him from running off without him. 

“You—have—amazing—stamina….” Viktor doubled over, then stood up straight, raising his hands over his head so he could more easily fill his lungs with air. 

Yuuri offered a water bottle. “I know,” he said quietly, smiling just a bit in pride. 

“That’s definitely—something we can—work with.” Viktor gratefully took the water bottle and downed the entirety of its contents in three gulps. “You’re like a steam engine! You just keep going!” 

Yuuri laughed in spite of himself, taking his own water bottle. He took a sip, leaning against the railing that kept cars from veering into the sea. “I’m surprised I still can.”

Viktor glanced around for a moment, checking out the scenery. He must’ve found what he was looking for. With that, he continued running, and so did Yuuri after turning his music back on. 

They ran to a trash can to recycle their bottles, then ran across the street, then ran back towards the resort. They’d been out for a while. Originally, Viktor wanted ten minutes warm up, twenty on muscle building, and thirty on running, but Yuuri insisted on running. 

To their surprise, running ultimately became the best option. Not only did the task feel shorter, but Yuuri was having fun. He found fundamentals like chin-ups, crunches, and weight lifting to be a necessary evil. He felt free when he ran; he only thought of the good things. 

Yuuri thought about how he could outrun Viktor, even when he was ill. Yuuri thought about the fact that his legs could take him wherever he wanted. How free he was when he took off. How he could apply such strides to his art. To ballet. To skating. 

Yuuri felt so, so alive. 

By the time they were back at the onsen, Yuuri was panting. He was panting, but he was smiling. 

Viktor wasn’t smiling. On the contrary, he was trying to keep from collapsing. He grabbed the wall first, then Yuuri, wheezing, “Water, water!”

Almost as if God had answered their prayers, Mari walked in with two, large glasses. 

“How are you not dead, Yuuri?” she asked, nearing them. Yuuri took a glass and nudged it in Viktor’s hands. Then, he took his own. 

“I tapped into my stamina reservoir. It’s been surplusing for months.” Yuuri took a big gulp of his water and turned towards Viktor, who still hung off of him. For the oddest reason, Yuuri wasn’t completely repelled by his grasp. 

“I’ll say,” he said, breathing heavily. “Cool down and a soak would be nice.”

“What will we be doing for a cool down?” Yuuri asked, following Viktor towards the showers they were required to use before sitting in the hot spring.

“Stretching. Minako will have you stretch as well, but she appointed me with the basics. Butterfly, toe touch…”

“So, I’m going to stretch out. That’s it?” Yuuri was a little let down that he wasn’t doing anything more intense, but then again….

“You’ll do something more invigorating in ballet.” Viktor stepped towards the robes and pulled a few, handing one to Yuuri. “You know where to find me.” He winked, then slipped away to the bathroom. 

Yuuri could hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

 

Viktor. Stretching. Naked. Behind him. 

The view was oh-so-beautiful but oh-so-awkward. Viktor kept trying to tug at his sleeve to grab his attention. Yuuri kept almost turning around. He turned until his eyes drifted towards his coach’s…and then he’d look away, both embarrassed and flattered. 

_ Europeans _ , Yuuri thought, then realized that Russia wasn’t exactly European.  _ Whatever. Just don’t look _ —

“Yuuri! You really need to stretch! It’s good for you!” Viktor said, almost yanking Yuuri out of the water by the chain. Quickly, he covered his eyes and turned back around. 

“But it’s cold and I’m warm,” Yuuri almost whined, slipping deeper into the water. He must’ve looked like a tomato. 

“The cold air is good for you, Yuuri!” Viktor crooned, standing up.

“You live in one of the coldest places in the world. Of course, you could say that.” The more Yuuri concentrated on the cold, the more in tune he was with himself. His teeth began to chatter. 

“You need to breathe the cold air—and you didn’t stretch! You didn’t stretch, Yuuri, and you need to! You need to cool down!” Viktor said, sliding in next to him. “I did my stretching. Your turn. Get out. I can help you if you want—“

“No, no...you don’t have to do that! And I want to stretch when I’m not naked, if you don’t mind…”

Viktor watching him, a slab of bacon, stretch?

He’d rather die. 

Yuuri, again, sank deeper into the water, the tip of his nose just skidding the surface. 

“You know, Yuuri, there’s no reason to be ashamed in front of me,” Viktor said all of a sudden, in something less than a coach’s voice. Or maybe more than a coach’s voice. Like a close friend’s voice. Was that less or more? Yuuri didn’t know. He looked at Viktor, eyes up while he stayed down. “As a coach, and as someone who will be there to support you, I will see you at your best and worst moments. If it’s something you’re self-conscious about, you don’t need to worry about me seeing it as a weakness.”

“You don’t understand,” Yuuri mumbled, sitting up slightly. “It’s not that easy—“

“Take your time, then. We’ll work up to it. But I need you to be in decent shape by the time we get you back on the ice, competitively.”

_ He just doesn’t get it _ , Yuuri thought, staring at Viktor.  _ He doesn’t get that I can’t shake it off. _

Yuuri stood up and exited the hot spring, deciding it was time for him to go in. He needed a five-minute break from Viktor. As much as he appreciated being around him, as much as he wanted to be around him, Yuuri needed a break. 

Viktor was a force of nature in multiple ways, and now that he spent time with him, the man on the posters he had seemed completely different. 

There was still an air of mystery. Yuuri still didn’t know too much about him, other than the things he analyzed. Stress. Frustration. 

Sighing, Yuuri covered up and walked into the onsen. 

Viktor called for him, but he wouldn’t listen. 

 

“He’s a lot, isn’t he?” 

Mari. 

Pushing the door open slightly, she poked her head in. 

“Come in,” Yuuri mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest. He just finished stretching on his own, without Viktor. Now, he was dressed for their next endeavor: Minako’s place. The ballet studio. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but you know I’ll always listen to you. What did he say?” Mari ambled over and sat down next to him. 

“I don’t think he gets it.”

“Specify, please,” Mari said, mimicking Yuuri’s position. 

“He was telling me that I didn’t need to be self-conscious around him and that I needed to work on it before I start competing again. He doesn’t get that I can’t help it. I just—“

“Don’t ‘I just’, Yuuri.” Mari patted his kneecap. “It’s hard to build up confidence, but he’s not wrong. You  _ will _ have to work on it. Your performance always reflects your attitude.”

Yuuri huffed. “I just need a moment away from him.”

“So, he  _ is _ a lot.”

“I don’t know how he smiles so much.”

Mari chortled. “I used to think the same thing about you when you were younger. You’d always smile and I didn’t get it...but Yuuri, I’d do anything to see a permanent smile on your face again.”

Tears started to form in Yuuri’s eyes. When did it all end? When did he stop smiling?

Better question. When would he start smiling again? When would he be a constant smiley face?

When would he be Viktor?

“Are you happy that Viktor’s here, Yuuri?” 

“So very,” he said, voice rasping. “I’m still overwhelmed, but I’m starting to see human in him. He’s going gray.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t dye it?” Mari stood up, offering a helping hand. Yuuri took it and she boosted him up.

“His hair’s always been that color. I was looking at him earlier and I noticed gray, though.”

“Hmm. Okay. He’s probably stressed.” Mari began to migrate towards the door, and Yuuri did as well. 

“That’s what I thought.”

“So, where are you going now?” she asked, changing the subject. They walked down the hall, side by side.

“Minako, then Ice Castle.” A smile couldn’t help but twitch at his lips.

“Are you ready to get back on?” 

Viktor sat at a chabudai, waiting for him. Makkachin was at his side, wagging his tail ferociously as Viktor scratched his back. He looked bored, elbow propped on the table, cheek resting against palm. 

“Yes, and no.” Yuuri leaned against the archway, deciding to spend a minute to watch from afar. 

“No?”

“What if I lost it?” Yuuri didn’t want to think about that.

“Figure skating is a part of you, Yuuri. It’s in your blood.” A gentle hand approached his bicep. He accepted the sense of touch only after jumping slightly at the initial shock. 

Yuuri didn’t say anything. Viktor glanced up then, turning into the human embodiment of the sun at the sight of Yuuri. He smiled big and waved him over. “Join me!”

“Your lover is requesting your presence,” Mari chuckled, nudging him forward. 

Yuuri blushed deeply, but stumbled towards his coach. He sat across the way, Makkachin deciding that he wanted his attention now. 

“Are you ready?” Viktor’s posture straightened. He sat up, yet remained leaning on the table. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Yuuri nervously chuckled. “Sorry about out there. I…needed a moment.”

Viktor nodded like he already knew. “I respect that.”

Yuuri crookedly smiled, looking down at the table. His hand found Makkachin’s curly fur and gently pet it.

“Are you hungry?”

Yuuri looked up quickly. 

“You need to eat six small meals a day. Are you hungry yet?” Viktor smiled. 

“I...guess.” Yuuri felt his shoulders shift nervously. “What am I having again?”

“Fruit, rice, and chicken.” Viktor got up. “I’ll be back.”

 

Hiroko already called Viktor “Vikchan”. She already pinched his cheeks. She already hugged him. 

Yuuri found his both fascinating and unnerving. 

It was like he was a long lost family member, and Viktor went right along with it. 

He called Hiroko “Hirachka”. He helped her cook when he wasn’t doing anything. He acted almost as an employee, moving things around for guests. 

Viktor only arrived the day before and it was like he’d been there his whole life. 

He had been, somewhat. But all of the posters in Yuuri’s room didn’t really count, though, did they?

Probably not. 

But Viktor fit right in. Yuuri wondered if it was like that everywhere he went. Probably. He was charming and oozed charisma, leaving a snail trail of it behind. 

Even Minako acted like they’d known each other for the longest time. When they entered the dance studio, she embraced him with a big hug. He hugged her back genially. 

“Minako!”

“How are you, Viktor? Yuuri?” She peeked around Viktor, finding Yuuri lugging everything they needed. (He insisted.)

“We just ate. Did you know Yuuri could run almost two kilometers in seven minutes? He has such a high stamina!” Viktor practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he gave Minako the low-down of the past few hours. 

Yuuri, on the other hand, decided to get ready for his lessons. He set Viktor’s duffel aside and sat down by the mirror, plopping his own in front of him. Then, he began to shed his outer shell. The jacket came off, and the heavier pants—he wore sweats over his tight-like pants, only wearing an actual pair under. Placing both of those aside, he unzipped the duffel and pulled out his black, canvas ballet shoes. 

He’d need a new pair soon….

He slipped them on after taking off his sneakers, then stood up, placing his other items in the duffel. Grabbing the water bottle from the side pocket, he walked over and joined the conversation between Minako and Viktor. 

“—at the barre, some floor exercises, nothing too extreme. Of course, stretching before all—oh, hey, Yuuri.” Minako smiled at him, inching over slightly to let him step into the conversation. “Anything special you want to do?”

“No, not really. I’m probably not as flexible with certain positions. I need to work into it first.” Yuuri shrugged slightly, glancing at Viktor. “Is there anything special you want me to do?”

“We need to work on flexibility,” Viktor agreed, stepping back. His eyes glazed over the polished, wood floor and hummed in content. “This seems like a solid place to practice.”

 

Flexibility came with muscle memory. If you remembered how to do a backbend, you knew all of the motions, you just needed to practice to reinforce it. Stretching wasn’t hard. Flexibility wasn’t hard. Yuuri was already rather good as he did it often. There just so happened to be a few positions that needed to be reconstituted. 

Toe touches and butterflies were no problem at all. Splits were easy for him, backbends, anything that required near-body contortion. But he was rusty. It took him longer to fall into each position. 

“Don’t strain yourself, Yuuri,” Viktor would say. “Don’t do anything that hurts.”

Yuuri didn’t listen, though. If it hurt, he knew it was working. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor said as Yuuri leaned against the barre, breathing heavily. They were just about done. “You weren’t hurting yourself, were you? Your form was rather frigid.”

Yuuri stared at him, tongue tied and swollen in his throat. Every time he was confronted, no matter who it was and what he was being confronted for, he would grow suspect. 

It gave Yuuri away. 

“Yuuri, do you want permanent damage?” Viktor asked, voice too smooth for his outward demeanor. His arms were crossed, stare tantalizing. 

“No, I don’t,” Yuuri replied, opening his water bottle. He gulped the rest of the water down and huffed, walking towards his duffel. “I’m tired.”

“I was about to call it for today, anyway,” Minako said, walking back into the room. She didn’t break a sweat, but then again, she was a pro. She moved effortlessly. 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, not really wanting to push himself any further. 

For once, he knew his limits. 

When it came to life or death, he guessed, it  _ did _ matter how hard he pushed himself. 

“Can you give us a moment?” Viktor asked suddenly, causing Yuuri, who was walking towards his duffel, to suddenly turn. 

What would they have to talk about?

“Of course, I’ll see you two later. Okay!” Minako waved, then departed, leaving the two alone in the room. 

Yuuri stood there, eyeing Viktor incredulously. 

“You need to refrain from spreading yourself too thin, Yuuri. You’ve only just started again and though everything you’ve done today has been impressive, it isn’t good to start at such a high pace. Do you know what I mean?”

Yuuri blinked, staring at Viktor with a pensive gaze. He knew exactly what Viktor meant, but permanent damage?

Semi-permanent, sure, but he was almost positive he couldn’t become paralyzed from stretching out beyond his ability. 

“Do you know what I mean, Yuuri?” Viktor asked again, brow arched.

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed, glancing away. Again, he felt like he was being burned at Viktor’s mere glance. If they were touching, he knew he’d go up like a forest fire. It would spread and devour him until he was a shell of what he used to be: hollow, empty.

“Yuuri.” Viktor’s hand caught Yuuri’s wrist, and suddenly, he was in flames.

He turned around instantly, pulling his wrist from Viktor’s grasp. He put a good five feet between them, staring at the man with such blue eyes, his idol. Was this even real?

Viktor looked wounded and slightly confused—like a child who didn’t get an invitation to a birthday party when everyone else did. 

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but Viktor beat him to the punch.

“You  _ do  _ want me as your coach, don’t you?”

Extinguished, Yuuri finally found some footing in the conversation. His tongue untwisted. His heart rate, which was at a high tempo, he just realized, steadied. Calmness engulfed him. Too calm. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you act like my instructions won’t benefit you? Why won’t you listen to me?” Viktor shifted positions, hands on his hips. 

“I don’t listen to anyone, Viktor. It’s not just—” His tongue tied again. 

Confrontation. 

Abort. 

Abort!

“It’s not just…?”

Yuuri shook his head. He could tell he was shutting down. He didn’t want to speak and anxiety was becoming rather overwhelming. If only he could say just a few more words….

“I  _ want _ you here, Viktor.”

And then, he did something he didn’t expect of himself.

A ginger hand placed itself on Viktor’s chest, right over his heart.

Viktor heaved an unsteady breath.

“I want  _ you _ here, Viktor.”

“I don’t understand you, Yuuri,” Viktor chuckled lightly. His hand entrapped Yuuri’s. “But I do understand what you mean…Do you still want to go to the ice?”

Yuuri’s hand slipped and fell to his side. “Yes.”

“All right,” Viktor sighed, parting from Yuuri. He scooped up his duffel and turned towards him. “We have a lot to go over.”

 

Yuuri walked into the Ice Castle by himself. The plan was to keep the Nishigoris distracted so they wouldn’t fawn over Viktor. Yuuri didn’t want to make it a big deal, even if it still was in his head. They’d just draw attention and he didn’t want too much of it. Not at the moment. 

Yuuko was organizing shelves when he wandered up to the counter. She was distracted, shoving skates into their respective cubbies. It took her a minute, but she turned when Yuuri leaned in her field of vision slightly to get her attention.

A warm smile overtook her. “Are you here to…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Yuuri smiled lopsidedly, shrugging his duffel into a comfortable position on his shoulder. “Is anyone on the ice right now?”

“No, not at all.” The smile on Yuuko’s face faded into something of a frown. “It’s been about a month now….”

“A  _ month _ ?” Guilt wrang at Yuuri’s stomach.    
“Yeah, no one really comes here anymore. I’m surprised we haven’t closed down by now—VIKTOR NIKIFOROV?!”

Yuuri turned around instantly, mentally face palming. He  _ was _ trying to sneak in, kind of. 

Viktor straightened, brushing off his front. He looked at her with dignity and smiled. “Hello.”

“VIKTOR NIKIFOROV?!” Yuuko turned to Yuuri, bug-eyed. “THE RUMOURS ARE TRUE?!”

Yuuri laughed awkwardly, tugging at the neck of his sports jacket. “Yeah….”

“Oh my GOD!” Yuuko covered her mouth with both hands, turning towards Viktor with wide eyes. He could tell that she didn’t believe it. He laughed in spite of himself. He was in the same position only a day ago.

Viktor couldn’t seem to get enough of it, though. He winked at her, moving to stand by Yuuri’s side. “Would you mind if we used your rink to practice?”

“Wh-what? Our rink?!” Yuuko looked towards the doors that led to the rink, then back at Viktor. “I mean, of course!”

“ Arigatou gozaimasu!” Viktor said, which cause both Yuuko and Yuuri to glance at each other.

As the two men walked alongside each other towards the benches, Yuuri said, “So, thank you in Japanese….”

“If I’m going to be here for the next several months, I need to learn the language, do I not?” Viktor cocked a brow, sitting down on the bench.

Yuuri took a seat next to him, unpacking the things he needed for the ice.

“It’s nice, but not necessary, I mean, most of us speak enough English to communicate and —”

“I want to, Yuuri. For you, for your parents, for your doctors. Communication would be easier.” Viktor shrugged, tugging on a boot.

“Do you want me to learn Russian, then?” Yuuri began lacing himself up.

“It’s not necessary.” Viktor slid on the other boot. “It’s not like you’re living in Russia.”

“What would you do if I did learn?”

Viktor just smiled one of his appreciative, not quite beaming, smiles. Admiration oozed from him. Yuuri wanted to brush it off. “It would be lovely, but not necessary.”

Yuuri nodded slightly, deciding to be a little bold. “Ladno.” 

Never had Yuuri thought it would be a goal to surprise Viktor. Hell, he never thought he would be so close to him. If he moved even just slightly, he would’ve bumped into the Russian. But when Viktor looked at him with widened eyes, a smile on his face and a blush tinting his cheeks, Yuuri knew he surprised him. He grinned back, then looked down, seeing he was all tied up. 

Standing, he pulled off his sports jacket and set it on the bench. 

“Fundamentals today, right?” 

“Actually, something else, and…I want to talk to you.”

Yuuri flinched slightly. Those six words rarely had a positive connotation. “About?”

Viktor hummed. “You’ll see.”

Yuuri inwardly groaned.  _ Now that that’s on my mind, I won’t be able to think about anything else _ .

He tended to flub when something was on his mind.

The two walked to the ice, and once they stood at the edge, waiting to enter the actual rink, Viktor took hold of his wrist, delicately. “Yuuri.”

Turning towards Viktor, he pulled his wrist from the gentle grasp. 

“It’s nothing bad, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?”

Viktor shook his head. He found the gate, opened it, and stepped onto the ice.

Yuuri sat back and watched, taking in everything Viktor did. He glided on the ice, it almost looked like he was levitating, floating about. But everything was so precise. Each turn, each step, each quad, effortless. However, and Yuuri was surprised to be so analytical of Viktor’s performance, it almost seemed like something was missing.

Of course, there was no music, but Viktor did everything in time. The music wasn’t the issue.

It seemed, almost, that he was missing  _ someone _ . 

Viktor’s eyes fell on him.

“Do you recognize it?” Viktor asked from afar, but skated up towards where Yuuri stood. 

Really, Yuuri wasn’t paying attention to the moves, per se, but the passion that fueled it, or there lack of.

Well, there was passion, but not much of it.

“Stammi Vicino. Stay close to me.” Yuuri leaned against the wall dividing them and quietly huffed. He didn’t want to confront Viktor about the lack of emotion that usually fuelled his skating.

“Correct.” Viktor sunk to Yuuri’s level, propping an elbow on the wall. “You recreated it perfectly while they were interviewing your former coach.”

Yuuri blushed.

“Can you show me? No quads, though. One or two rotations.  _ Maybe _ three, and that’s pushing it.”

“No quads?” Yuuri mumbled, almost frowning.

“None. Show me. Do you want the music? I’m sure I can ask if they have a radio or surround sound system.”

Yuuri wanted to grumble on about no quads, but it wasn’t like he could land many of them anyway. He took out his phone and scrolled through his music. Finding the song, he marched over to the sound system and plugged his phone in. 

Viktor followed him over and took the phone. “Get on the ice in the middle. You know what to do. Just nod when you’re ready, and don’t let me distract you.”

Viktor  _ would _ be a distraction. 

Viktor made him want to be his best self, and sometimes, when the pressure was all too much, he caved.

God, he hoped he didn’t cave.

Yuuri parted from Viktor, clenching his fists. Of course, Viktor watched him before, but he wasn’t present. It wasn’t performed specifically for him.

Yuuri performed it for himself….

He just had to pretend he was doing just that again.

Climbing onto the ice, an air of familiarity engulfed him. Something about standing on the ice summoned him to the middle, the ice called for him, and he was home.

Yuuri was home.

Standing in the middle, Yuuri glanced in Viktor’s direction and nodded.

_ Don’t take your eyes off me _ , he thought.  _ Let me impress you. _

The minute the music started, Yuuri felt himself tug with the song. He let each sequence flow through him, like his body retained it. He didn’t need to remember the steps. His body knew what to do. 

Upon reaching the first quad, Yuuri had to fight the urge. He knew, in all practicality that his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not only was he sick, but he was overweight and the strain would be all too much.

But when did Yuuri ever listen?

With just enough momentum, Yuuri took off, and before he knew it, he landed in perfect formation, gliding right into his next sequence.

Yuuri soared, he enjoyed every moment. For once, he forgot everything and skated his heart out.

Freedom, that was what it felt like.

Finally, the song drew to a conclusion and Yuuri stood in the final position, the moment in time catching up with him.

Heavily breathing, Yuuri stood there, thinking back on the last couple of minutes. That was the thing. He  _ didn’t  _ think. Nothing really ran through his head. All he knew was that he worked hard, which was very obvious by the way he could barely breathe. 

For a while, Yuuri stood there, and then all of a sudden, Yuuri began to see spots.

“Yuuri!” Viktor called from what almost seemed afar. But he was right there, skating towards him.

Yuuri was so tired….

A stable arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him towards the exit. He knew Viktor pulled him along, but with being too busy trying not to pass out, it didn’t quite register until he was sitting on the bench again. Viktor took the liberty of unlacing his boots. He simply watched, still too dazed to be exactly flattered. “How did I do?”

Viktor looked up at him, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. From what Yuuri could distinguish, he was both elated and somewhat vexed. He smiled, but his brow was furrowed.

Maybe even worried?

“I thought Makkachin was bad at obeying me.”

Yuuri blinked a couple of times, holding his breath.

“Nonetheless, you did well. You only did one quad, but that was one too many, Yuuri. I told you not to do quads. You’ll hurt yourself. Not only is your body weight bearing down on you, but cancer is as well. We should have just stuck with the fundamentals plan….”

“I’m okay now, Viktor.”

“Yeah,  _ now _ . You nearly passed out on the ice.”

Heat spread through Yuuri. “N-now, about that news you were talking about….”

“Oh, that.” Viktor tugged the other boot off and began to pack them away. “I don’t want you near the ice again until you’ve reached your GPF weight. We’ve already discussed the weight thing, I want you to try to drop it as healthily as you can as soon as you can, got it?”

“That’s it?” Yuuri asked, heavily exhaling. He thought it would be something bad.

“Well,” Viktor mumbled, pulling off his boots, “once that weight is off, I’m giving you a month to perfect that program. You will perform it for me.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, a sense of dread returning. 

“And if you don’t, I cannot be your coach.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Yuuri grew too anxious, whether it be about skating or with just life in general, he would isolate himself. That was just how he rolled. He would lock himself up in his room and try to calm down. Music helped, Phichit, distracting himself. Something. It kept his mind rolling, but didn’t cause him to think about whatever made him anxious. 

In this case, Yuuri didn’t feel like he could run. What it was burned him from the inside out, and its name was Viktor Nikiforov. 

Don’t get him wrong, Yuuri loved the fact that he was there. He loved waking up and seeing that Viktor had that much faith in him. But with his last...proposal, Yuuri guessed, he felt nothing less than anxious around him. 

It had been a few days since Viktor divulged on his plan. 

Yuuri had to be up to par. 

Not in terms of quads. He said Yuuri would be too weak, still, to try and accomplish them. It was apparently miraculous that he even landed  _ one _ , let alone four. Body weight, fatigue, blah, blah, blah. It was holding him back. But Viktor wasn’t worried about him meeting his terms. 

“You did perfectly well, Yuuri. I’m sure you can meet up with the standards again. And with a month’s worth of practice, you’ll be able to nail the performance. You may even be able to weasel a quad in if you’re doing well.”

What he meant by that was if the doctor said he was almost done with his chemo. 

Everything was so up in the air, he couldn’t tell if it was even a possibility. 

Even though Yuuri was doing just fine by Viktor’s standards in regards to their regime, Yuuri worried that he wasn’t doing enough. Did he exercise enough? Did he eat enough? Did he eat too much? How did he do in ballet?

It became so overwhelming that he made himself sick, so Viktor put him under “quarantine”.

That simply meant that he had to stay in the room. 

The past couple of days, Viktor would come in and stay in the room with him practically all day, even if it made Yuuri nervous. They would stretch, they would mildly work out. Viktor even brought in their meals and would talk to Yuuri about their big plans. 

Yuuri listened and pretended that the thought of having to perfectly skate Stammi Vicino didn’t eat at him. 

It was another midday in Yuuri’s room and Viktor hadn’t come by yet. Usually, he woke Yuuri at his normal time—eight in the morning. 

Makkachin lay next to him while Yuuri flicked through his phone. It was a better day. He wasn’t nearly as anxious. 

Then again, he hadn’t seen Viktor yet. 

Yuuri didn’t attempt to do anything when Viktor wasn’t awake. He would stretch slightly. Arms up, toe touches in the bed, side to side, popping his back in the process. But that was about it, and he did that within ten minutes. 

So, while he waited, he flicked through Instagram. It’d been a few days since he checked. 

Usually, since some of the last updates enforced it, he would see the most popular posts first. Viktor’s posts were always the most popular. 

He most commonly posted selfies or pictures of Makkachin, but this certain picture was different….

Yuuri was in it. 

Not directly. Kind of. Viktor took a selfie of himself and Yuuri just so happened to be in the background, petting Makkachin while scrolling through his phone. 

The caption:

_ семья _

Yuuri itched his head, then grabbed the beanie Viktor liked and pressed the translate button. 

It roughly translated to:

_ A family _

A stifled breath caught in Yuuri’s throat. They weren’t really family, were they? But then again, coaches were oftentimes close enough to be. 

Anxiety twisted Yuuri’s stomach as he more closely examined the picture. He didn’t wear a beanie and generally, the angle hid his face. But would people be able to tell?

How long ago did he post it?

Glancing at the time, he cocked a brow. 

Only a few seconds ago….

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

“Agh!” Yuuri jumped back on the bed, nearly hitting his head on the wall. He looked up, seeing that Viktor was completely dressed. 

“Do you like the picture I posted?” Viktor asked, taking a seat next to him. He glanced at the screen and smiled, huffing contently. 

“I mean, you look fine, but—“

“No buts.” Viktor smiled, taking the phone. “Am I still your lock screen?” 

“Viktor!” Yuuri tried to grab it, but Viktor leaned over, keeping it away. He turned the phone off, then back on, chuckling at the sight of a Grand Prix Final Champion Viktor on his phone. 

“It’s cute.” Viktor handed it back and patted Yuuri’s back, for he was splayed across his lap while attempting to get the phone back. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Yuuri mumbled, glancing down at the phone as he sat back up. “I need to change it.”

“Ooh, let me send you the picture you need to change it to!” Viktor said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Family photo!”

“What, Viktor, no!” Yuuri grabbed his beanie and yanked it over his face. 

“Don’t be so embarrassed, Yuuri! I won’t post this one. Just us. Family photo.” Viktor tugged the beanie up to reveal his face. “Come on.” 

“Right here?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Viktor said, pouting, “you need an updated lock screen.”

“What if I like mine?”

“Do you? I thought you said it’s embarrassing.” Viktor smirked slightly. 

Damn. 

“Fine.”

Yuuri readjusted the beanie and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Glancing towards his left, he saw Makkachin and scooped him up, kissing his head. “Family photo, pup.”

“Say cheese!” Viktor exclaimed, holding the phone up. 

Yuuri looked at the camera and smiled, and for the oddest reason, he didn’t have to fake it. 

For once in a very long time, Yuuri was genuinely happy.

“It’s so cute!” Viktor practically squealed, scooting over towards Yuuri to show him.

Viktor was right. And Yuuri looked happy. 

“Send it to me,” Yuuri said, his voice betraying him in a peculiar way. It was warm and soft, nothing like it usually was. 

Or was it just him?

“I will. This is...Bozhe, Yuuri. Ty vyglyadish' prekrasno.”

Yuuri cocked a brow. “What?”

And for once, Viktor immediately blushed. “Oh, uh.” He gulped, then recovered. “You’ll figure it out once you become proficient in Russian.”

Of course, Yuuri could look it up. But he wouldn’t. Some things were better left untranslated. What if he was insulting Yuuri?

Probably not, but who knew?

It was rare that Yuuri let things go, but he might’ve as well. Better to live in the moment than dwell on the past—a personal mantra he never actually followed.

“What are we doing today?” Yuuri decided to ask. “Why weren’t you in here earlier?”

“Since you have chemotherapy tomorrow, I thought it would be good if you conserve your energy. It drains you as it is. I thought, maybe, we could go sightseeing. I came in late because I slept in.”

“Sightseeing in Hasetsu?” Yuuri chuckled quietly. “There’s really nothing here. A lot of ports. Several fish markets. The ‘castle’.” Yuuri shrugged. “Yeah. That’s about it.”

“Castle?” Viktor turned slightly towards the window, seeing the golden statue atop the castle peek over the branches of some cherry blossom trees. “It’s...breathtaking?”

“Yeah, if you want to call it that,” Yuuri said, grabbing a light jacket. “So, are we walking around?”

“Oh, sure.”

 

Viktor and Yuuri sat on a bench in the onsen’s cherry blossom garden, taking a break. Like Yuuri said, there wasn’t too much to see. The air was too bitter to sit out by the sea. After all, the wind whipped quite ferociously along the shoreline and with the way the garden was positioned in the onsen’s exterior, it blocked out any unnecessary wind. Not that it was warm, but the draft made it that much colder. 

Yuuri sat on the opposite end of the bench from Viktor, but Makkachin lay in the middle, keeping the complete distance from being awkward. Yuuri listened to music, Viktor stared at the ground, or Makkachin, or Yuuri. 

Yuuri could feel Viktor’s stare practically bore through his skull. 

Something felt different to Yuuri, but he didn’t know what. It all involved Viktor, of course, but when did it not?

Viktor looked at him longer, with softer eyes. Whenever he would come into the room in the morning when he thought Yuuri was asleep, he would sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, or until Makkachin barreled right in. When they did ever touch, rather it be in passing or through encouragement, his fingers lingered, like he didn’t want them to part. 

Part of it was surely wishful thinking, but some actions were too bizarre to make up. 

Not that Viktor did anything outlandish, but the smiles were warm and oozing, like a pat of melting butter. 

Every single time, Yuuri blushed. Everything Viktor did turned Yuuri into a living, breathing tomato. 

Viktor couldn’t seem to get enough of it, either. Yuuri caught glances of Viktor grinning like an idiot. 

Even though all of this could’ve been circumstantial evidence, Yuuri didn’t believe that someone like Viktor Nikiforov could love or like someone like Katsuki Yuuri. And what did Yuuri even like about him?

The fanboy in Yuuri was in love with Viktor. That’s what he put it up, all of those warm, yet cold feelings towards Viktor, to. A fanboy crush. 

A bit of wind caught in the garden. One open wall allowed some air to catch every once in a while. The smell of cherry blossoms wafted through the air, cutting into his intrusive thoughts. 

He needed to stop thinking about his faux crush on Viktor. At the end of the day, they were coach and student, and there was no way Viktor would ever associate himself, romantically, with the likes of him. 

“I read about cherry blossoms online,” Viktor said suddenly, causing Yuuri to perk up slightly. He glanced over at Viktor and cocked a brow, unsure of what he meant. Did he actually do research, or did he click on the first link on his web browser? 

“It really had me thinking,” Viktor continued, rubbing his hand along Makkachin’s back, “what am I doing with my life?”

“Mortality,” Yuuri mumbled. Life could be a symbol. 

“I know what  _ I’m  _ doing with my life, I’m sure. But I wondered, Yuuri, what you are doing with yours. What are you doing with yours?” Viktor turned towards him, sitting crisscrossed. He stared at the latter with undivided attention, and since they had been around each other so much, Yuuri didn’t hesitate as he did only a few days before. By no means was he an open book, but he certainly didn’t keep himself under a padlock anymore. 

“I’m living it day by day,” Yuuri admitted, pulling his beanie down a bit. “I think I know what I want for the future, but how can I be sure that I reach it?”

“Because I am your coach, Yuuri. Together, we will be very successful.” Viktor smiled, hand twitching towards his own. Yuuri caught it.

But maybe he was just imagining things to a greater extent. 

“But what about Stammi Vicino?” Yuuri asked, just the thought of it causing anxiety to ooze from him. “What if I can’t—“

Viktor’s hands caught his own, those flickering eyes staring at him. “I have no doubt that you will pass the test, Yuuri. That’s why I am asking you to perfect it.”

“Then if you have no doubt, why don’t you give me something more challenging?” Yuuri didn’t burn near Viktor anymore, not completely. He was only just slightly flammable. 

“You can’t do anything more challenging, which is saying a lot as it is challenging, until we work up to it. Think of it as phase two, I guess.”

Yuuri quietly huffed, eyes sinking to the grassy ground. 

“Do you...want to go to the rink? Not to practice, but to blow steam.” Viktor reconstituted his grasp on Yuuri’s hands. Then pulled them away. 

“You said I can’t back onto the ice before I weigh what I did at the last GPF.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I revoke that temporarily, and judging by your past endeavors, you’re a selective listener anyway.”

Yuuri blushed. “Yeah, I guess we can go.”

“Yes, or no? ‘I guess’ doesn’t give me a direct answer.”

It did, but he knew Viktor preferred something more promising. 

“Yes. Now?” Yuuri stood, and Makkachin pranced to his feet. 

“Yep.” Viktor smiled at him again and stood up, taking off before Yuuri said anything more. 

 

Viktor made Yuuri swear off quads and triples, and very strongly discouraged doubles as well. Basically, as much as Yuuri liked to spend his energy, Viktor wanted him to conserve it. 

For obvious reasons, of course, but Yuuri liked to go hard when blowing off steam. 

What he did was not exactly going hard. Instead, it was the opposite, really. 

He sat behind the rink, watching Viktor skate to his heart’s content, but even then, it seemed empty. 

The program that Viktor skated seemed to have a missing element. 

Like someone should’ve been on the ice with him….

Was he skating a pairs program?

Yuuri looked back at Viktor, finding those slate blue eyes on him. 

“Yuuri, come here.”

A warmth shot through Yuuri, heating him from head to toe. “M-me?”

Viktor nodded, grunting. 

Hesitantly, Yuuri stepped into the ice and skated towards him, slowing down as he grew near. Upon reaching Viktor, he spun around, stopping when he faced the Russian.

“I….” Viktor, for once, was at a loss for words. “Stammi Vicino. Perform it for me. I’ll turn on the music. And just...go with what I do, okay?” 

“What are you going to….”

Viktor skated off towards the sound system. 

Huffing, Yuuri stood in the middle. When he was younger, he would scuff at the ice with his blades, but he stopped when he realized that it wasn’t any good for the ice. 

Looking up, Yuuri saw Viktor standing at the sound system, brow cocked. “Ready, Yuuri? You know the drill. Single revolutions.”

“Not even two?”

Viktor gave him a look. “You’re not even supposed to be on the ice.”

“Fine. Ready.”

The minute the music turned on, Yuuri’s body took over and his mind went blank. 

Every move drilled itself in his memory. He knew what to do without thinking, muscle memory, spins, step sequence. All felt familiar, like he breathed it. Yuuri was good at it, at the simplicities: footwork, simple spins. 

It wasn’t until Viktor came from behind, taking him into his arms. He skated, one leg out, holding onto Yuuri. 

“Keep doing what you’re supposed to do, but leave room for flexibility as well,” Viktor said, departing. 

Yuuri knew what he meant. He fell into the same step with ease, then found Viktor in front of him, hands extended. 

Yuuri fell into his grasp, being pulled into something new. He’d never skated pairs before, but something about working with Viktor felt so incredibly natural. 

“I’m going to lift you in a minute,” Viktor said over the sound of blades-on-ice. 

“Can you?” Yuuri asked, growing nervous. 

“Of course I can! Don’t be silly. I’ll place you on the ice, though. Nothing in the air today.”

And with that, Yuuri was lifted off the ground and spun in Viktor’s arms. It was slight, but it made Yuuri felt like he could fly. 

Being placed back down on the ground, still smiling, Yuuri spun into the next move, and Viktor mirrored him in perfect time. 

They were perfect together. 

By the time the song was finished, the two spun into each other, Viktor grabbing Yuuri and the latter falling into his arms. 

Yuuri breathed heavily. Viktor panted. Their gaze became impenetrable. 

Heart pounding, Yuuri stood and smiled sheepishly. 

Could Viktor hear his heartbeat? 

“Have you ever considered pairs?” Yuuri asked finally, placing his hands on his hips. 

“Not until right now. I just kind of made that up, really,” Viktor admitted, chuckling, then frowned deeply when he looked Yuuri’s direction. “Come on.”

“What?” Yuuri asked, voice betraying him. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Viktor said, stepping off the ice. “And we should get home.” 

 

A cloth still held to his nose, Yuuri sat back on that bench with Viktor, staring at Hasetsu castle. It was large and lovely, two shachihokos bent on opposing sides of the roof. It glimmered in the sunlight, looking like a proper castle. But it wasn’t. It served as a ninja house.

Viktor couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, for they hadn’t visited it while sightseeing, and if he did, they were plastered on Yuuri. 

_ What is going through your head? _ Yuuri wondered. 

He looked at Yuuri Again, but this time he seemed to have something to say. 

“You know, you don’t have to hold that up to your nose anymore, I don’t think.” 

Yuuri removed the rag he held to his nose. The blood was dry. 

Setting it on the bench, he looked at Viktor. 

“I was thinking—Yuuko was telling me about your childhood together and it seems that you are fond of her.”

“Me?!” Yuuri yelped, suddenly alarmed. “No way!”

“Okay...do you have  _ any _ lovers?”

“Wait, what? No!” What was Viktor getting on?

“Any...ex-lovers?” Viktor cocked a head. 

Why did it matter?

Yuuri grew anxious again. Why did any of it matter? 

“N-no comment. Viktor—“

For a moment, surprise glinted in his eyes and Yuuri wanted to ask why, but before he could, Viktor said, “Let’s talk about me!”

Needless to say, this took Yuuri aback.

“Let’s see, my first lover was—”

“Stop!” Yuuri shouted, waving his hands about. 

And Viktor did, but with a downcast attitude. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin propped in his palm. And then, his eyes glanced up at the castle. “Hey, Yuuri. That was the castle you were talking about earlier, right?” 

Yuuri thought he talked about it more explicitly, but he guessed not. He nodded, saying, “People call it Hasetsu castle, but inside, it’s really a ninja house.” 

Viktor looked unexplainably excited over the fact that it was called a ninja house. His eyes grew wide as the moon and a smile graced his pale face. “Really?! No way! Will you take me? More sightseeing!”

“Like we saw, there’s not much  _ to _ see, but—”

“ _ Please _ , Yuuri? I want a picture!” Viktor grabbed his arm and used a puppy dog face, which Yuuri never imagined Viktor using on him. The puppy dog method was somewhat pathetic. Cute, but pathetic. Wouldn’t Viktor be above that?

Apparently not.

“Now?”

“Please, Yuuri?”

Yuuri quietly chuckled. He was used to Viktor saying his name by now, but it still made his heart flutter. “Fine, okay. No pictures of me though, all right?”

Viktor nodded like a little kid who was issued a warning. “Fine.”

And they were off. Makkachin came along. He liked staying in the house and following Mari around, but he liked Viktor and Yuuri more. The dog practically rubbed against the latter’s leg as they walked up to the castle, and once they were at a good picture-taking distance, Viktor stopped and looked up at the castle. “Wow!”

“It’s not much, but it’s all we got. It’s pretty, I guess, but once you travel and see the world, you see there are much prettier things than a beat-up looking facade of a castle,” Yuuri said, sinking down at Makkachin’s side. He petted the fur, staring up at Viktor.

He smiled fondly, and sadly if it was possible to do both at the same time.

“For me, the castle is one of the top most beautiful things I’ve seen while traveling.” He knelt in front of Yuuri and beamed a Cheshire cat smile, genuine and curious.

“You’re saying that because it’s actually a ninja house.”

“I’m saying it because I mean it.” Viktor grabbed both of Yuuri’s hands and stood up, pulling him up with him. “I want to take you to St. Petersburg someday, Yuuri. It’s beautiful there.”

Yuuri felt himself blush. “When would that ever happen?”

“Rostelecom cup. Just because you can’t compete doesn’t mean you can’t watch. It’s a nine-hour drive, but we could get to St. Petersburg on the seventeenth of October and I could show you all of my favorite places.”

Yuuri glanced away for a minute, seeing an older couple stare at them as if they were doing something promiscuous. So, he pulled his hands away and asked, “What’s there?”

Viktor noticed, but seemed to understand with a nod. “There’s this little bakery near my apartment and—”

“Empty calories.”

“Okay, special occasion. And, well…It’s St. Petersburg. Have you ever heard anything of it? Several cathedrals, churches. Does any of it interest you, Yuuri?” Viktor sounded somewhat flustered and kind of disappointed.

Yuuri noticed this and looked back up. This time, he grabbed onto Viktor’s arm and squeezed it. “It does. I don’t mean to put you off like that. It’s just….”

What was it?

“I’d love to. Are we going to any other cups?”

_ Don’t overthink it, Yuuri _ .

This seemed to cheer Viktor up. He smiled, widely, and nodded. “If you want to! We can do all the sightseeing you want! And we can cheer on Yuri! The little one. It’s his senior debut, you know?”

Little Yuri? Yuuri blinked a few time, letting go of Viktor. He forgot.

A churning feeling in his stomach made him want to throw up.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, inhaling deeply. “Now, about that picture. Do you want me to take it?”

Little Yuri. 

Russian punk.

What would he do if they showed up and watched him compete?

Yuuri decided to shove the thought away and held the phone Viktor placed in his hand up.

Of course, Viktor looked gorgeous on the camera screen, but up close, he was so much better.

Yuuri liked him right here, in Hasetsu, staying with him, calling him “Yuuri”, looking at him like he was the only person on the planet. He liked the gentle touches and the days they spent together. Viktor’s kindness, and brutal honesty. Every ounce of it was so appealing.

The revelation didn’t shock him, but it did make him grin. His heart fluttered in his chest and it felt good.  

Katsuki Yuuri liked Viktor Nikiforov, as a human being.

It was always obvious, but once it was a hopeless crush on a person he never thought would look his way. Now, it was real and he was right in front of him. And he was so much better. Viktor was warm and salty, but mostly kind.

Yuuri couldn’t believe it, it felt all too good to be true.

But he thought,  _ Don’t overthink it, Yuuri _ , and took the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I don't know how often I'm going to update because I am currently working on both an original story and another fic, but I will not forget this one! Love you all and thank you so much for the support!!
> 
> Also, let me know if any of my translations are off!


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning began the same way it always did ever since Viktor practically moved in, except instead of going out to jog around, he brought a couple of yoga mats into the room when he went to wake Yuuri up.

“What’s this?” Yuuri asked when he spotted them. He felt around for his beanie and pulled it onto his head, looking up at Viktor, who stood over him with that familiar air of coach’s authority. He smiled at Yuuri, genuinely.

“Yoga. I think it would be good to switch it up. What do you think?”

Yuuri glanced past Viktor at the baby pink and blue mats, which matched. Little poodles littered the mat, which made Yuuri wonder if they were custom made.

“Are we starting now?” Yuuri asked, stretching towards his glasses. Upon putting them on, he unplugged his phone as well and tried to hide the smile that came to his face when the screen lit up, revealing the day before’s “family photo”.

“No, breakfast, then a bit of yoga, then chemotherapy. Then, you’ll rest.” Viktor smiled, offering a hand to help Yuuri up.

With help, Yuuri stood and stretched a little bit more. Everything sounded nice and planned and all, but the day ahead of them seemed so entirely mundane. Since Viktor came, he was very busy. Running, skating, just walking around, consumed his daily life for the past several days and now he had to sit around practically all day?

That seemed boring.

“What are  _ you  _ going to do, Viktor?” Yuuri asked, trailing behind the taller, slimmer man as they made their way to the dining room.

“Me? Well, what I usually do. And make company, maybe? I haven’t met that new couple that checked in last night…”

Yuuri nodded slightly, then frowned. What did he mean when he said, ‘make company’? With him? Yuuri hoped he meant that the day would be spent in his room, yet again.

Yes, he often (inwardly) complained about Viktor busting in, but he rather enjoyed his company….

Something about sitting in the room with the person you idolized made you both elated and anxiety-ridden at the same time.

They both sat down, and a moment later, Hiroko placed a bowl of cereal in front of each of them. Filled with berries and bananas, it looked to be extremely nutritious. Viktor thanked Mrs. Katsuki as Yuuri stared at his bowl. 

“Looks different than what you usually have, but has all the same components. Protein, fiber, vitamins and minerals. Oh—and the milk for calcium. Strong bones, you know?” Viktor gently pinched Yuuri’s forearm and smiled before digging into his own. 

Yuuri began to eat as well, but he couldn’t help but wonder—what would they do after chemo?

Rest. Viktor wanted him to rest.

But what  _ was _ resting?

“Why don’t you meet the new couple now?” Yuuri glanced over Viktor’s shoulder, noticing that they sat right behind them, eating giant bowls of katsudon. 

Yuuri missed katsudon. Not that he could really taste much of anything anymore, but he still longed for the porky, messy goodness of the food.

“Hmm?” Viktor covered his mouth and followed the direction of Yuuri’s gaze. “Oh! Right now?”

Yuuri nodded, slumping slightly. “Get it over with.”

“That’s not how I’d put it—the sooner the better!”

And just like that, Viktor stumbled to the table next to them and began to chat it up with the new guests. 

“And we don’t even pay him.” 

Mari plopped down next to Yuuri and picked a berry from the cereal. 

“I don’t get how he does it. It’s like he’s not afraid to stumble up to people and make nice.” Yuuri glanced at Mari and shoved the bowl towards her. He wasn’t very hungry. 

“He’s famous, Yuuri. Majorly famous. He’s known across several continents. People like him have formal training on how to act in front of people. Nice, Yuuri. He’s always been nice.”

“Nice is waving when someone recognizes you.” Yuuri took his medication and washed it down with water. 

“Some people are actually people people, Yuuri. They like surrounding themselves with other beings.” She nudged him with a pointy elbow and stood. 

“Hey, are you saying I don’t like being around other people?” Yuuri cocked a brow, and Mari laughed. 

“It’s obvious. Now, I need to work.”

And she took off. 

Yuuri knew he wasn’t a people person. It was obvious in how he reacted to touch, eye contact, being in the same room with several other people, attention. None of it was crippling, but it all counted against him. 

However, none of it mattered when Viktor was near him. Of course, Viktor didn’t know what personal space was, but Yuuri found himself not minding far too much. There were times when he  _ was _ a bit much, but the man harbored much respect and would lay off if Yuuri asked him.  Of course, these thoughts came with the revelation of his actual crush on Viktor— _ actual _ meaning that he liked Viktor for who he was and not who Yuuri perceived him to be. 

“They’re from America!”

Yuuri jumped slightly, looking up to see Viktor standing, gazing down at him. 

“Are they, now?” Yuuri tried to take another bite of his food, but he couldn’t. He spit it in a napkin and set it aside. 

Viktor noticed this. “Yuuri, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, Viktor. It’s pointless to force myself.” Yuuri slumped, looking at his coach. “I feel like throwing up anyway.”

Viktor hummed and held his hand for Yuuri to take. “Let’s go to your room. Yoga will help.”

Yuuri took his hands, got hoisted up, and walked to the room with Viktor at his side. 

For a few moments, the two spent time preparing for a mini yoga session. If Yuuri didn’t want to be late, they needed to head out in an hour and a half and they both still needed to shower. Viktor wanted to do a couple of poses that helped both nausea and posture, but before they could do that, Yuuri insisted on music and Viktor took the liberty of rolling the mats out. 

Now, they sat in front of each other. Viktor was Helping Yuuri fold his legs properly. 

“How are you not flexible enough to do this? I’ve seen you bend. You’re perfectly capable—how?”

Yuuri’s legs involuntarily unfolded. 

“I don't know,” Yuuri mumbled, flustered at both the fact that Viktor was touching him and that his legs just wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Ah—Okay! Got it,” Viktor cheered, sitting back. “Hands in lap—just like that—straight posture. Yes, you’re doing well. Now, inhale—exhale.”

Viktor imitated Yuuri but looked much better when he did it.

Yuuri did as he was told, but didn’t feel any better. He felt his stomach knot up more if anything. 

“Is it working, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, smiling, then frowned at the sight of Yuuri grimacing.

“No. This only makes me feel worse.”

“Oh.” Viktor’s frown deepened if that was possible. “Another position?”

“We can try, I guess.”

And Viktor rearranged Yuuri into another position, then another, and another. 

Nothing worked. 

So, Yuuri decided, after his nose began to bleed, that they needed to refrain from any more yoga poses. Viktor accepted this, under the condition that he could help Yuuri with his nosebleed. 

“I’ve been reading up on how to help, and I  _ am _ your coach, so I think it’s important that I support you in everything you do. You know, if your nose doesn’t stop bleeding, you’ll just have to go to the cancer center as is. Nothing wrong with that. You took a bath last night.” Viktor walked back over with a wet rag and handed it over before pinching the soft part of Yuuri’s nose. 

“I mean, I won’t wipe up your blood...just a thing I have. I don’t do fluids. But I’ll try to help!”

“You really don’t have to. I handled it on my own before you came along,” Yuuri said, nasally. 

“Yes, yes, but consider this taking the load off your back.” Viktor beamed at him, then called, “Makkachin!”

The poodle ran in and jumped up on the bed, instantly cuddling into Yuuri’s side.

If Yuuri could’ve huffed, he would’ve. “You really don’t—”

“I want to.” Viktor looked him right in the eyes. “Let me help you.”

Knowing he couldn’t say no to Viktor, he scooted slightly to let him have some space on the bed. Viktor climbed on immediately, pulled out his phone, and took a picture before Yuuri could protest.

Then, he pulled up Youtube.

The two of them watched random videos until Hiroko walked into the room, looking somewhat worried. 

“Okasaan?” Yuuri sat up and removed the cold, wet rag from his nose. “Is something wrong?”

“We need to go, Yuuri! Right now!”

“Oh, crap,” Yuuri said, looking at the time.

They’d make it, but barely.

“Let’s go, Viktor. Come on,” Yuuri said, adjusting both his glasses and his beanie.

And the three were out the door.

 

“I didn’t see you grab those.” Yuuri stared at the papers in Viktor’s hands. They were notes, stats, and the plan for Yuuri’s regime. A big, fat 13.6 in red letters was on the top of the regime. He needed to lose that. It had only been a few days since Viktor wrote that, so he needed to remind himself that he wouldn’t have already dropped a kilo overnight.

“Hiroko let me put them in the car last night. Grabbed them before we got out.” Viktor shuffled through a few more pages before turning to Yuuri. “I expect that you’ve already lost a kilo.”

Yuuri blinked a couple of times, unsure of Viktor’s prediction. There had to be no way that Viktor was right.

Of course, they would’ve found out within minutes, but Yuuri doubted it. Still, he said, “A kilo?”

“Yes. Mostly water weight, of course.”

_ That _ made sense.

A moment later, the doctor walked in, a smile on his face. He held a clipboard retaining Yuuri’s blood results. Of course, his cancer was practically in remission at this point, but still. Complete remission would be amazing.

It was just so hard to detect it in blood cancer patients.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the doctor said in rough English.

Yuuri rose a brow, then remembered Viktor was with him. He hadn’t ever heard the doctor speak in any other language than Japanese.

“Good morning!” Viktor said, bowing slightly in respect. 

“Hey,” Yuuri said, wringing his hands. “Good news?”

“Yes,” the doctor said, then glanced at Viktor. “Pardon my English.”

“No, it’s just fine, Dr. Yamazaki. English isn’t my first language, either. I haven’t used it for a while until I came here. I’m learning Japanese, though. Did you know that I was Yuuri’s coach?”

“Ice skating again?” the oncologist asked, looking at Yuuri with a pleased look in his eyes. “Nothing too physically straining?” 

“I forbade quads, but he doesn’t like to listen.” Viktor shot a quick, glaring glance in Yuuri’s direction before continuing. “No matter, though. He knows not to do it after having a dizzy spell. But, yes. Nothing strenuous, I think. I did want to talk about his regime in regards to weight loss, though.”

The doctor pulled up a chair and took a seat. “And what is that? You did see what our dietician suggested, yes?”

“Is that who I should talk to?” Viktor asked, suddenly, running a hand through his silver locks.

“Yes, do you want me to call her in?” 

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll ask to see her, if she is not busy, of course.” Viktor stood and parted Yuuri with a smile.

As soon as the door clicked closed, the doctor and Yuuri made eye contact.

“He’s handsome,” the doctor said, reverting back to Japanese. “Now, will you step on the scale?”

 

Viktor and Yuuri met back in the chemo room, Yuuri beaming and Viktor looking satisfied. 

Yuuri immediately bounded on Viktor, gripping his wrists. “Viktor! Guess what?”

Viktor cocked a brow. “What’s that, Yuuri?”

“I only have two more chemos after this! I’m practically in complete remission!”

It seemed as though the wind knocked out of Viktor. He nearly doubled, grabbing onto Yuuri as some support. Had Viktor not expected Yuuri to get better? Yuuri laughed, and Viktor did too, pulling him close but not quite into a hug. 

“That’s great, Yuuri. Perfect, really. But what about your nose bleeds—”

“It’s a chemo thing, but I’ve noticed that I’m not bruising randomly as much. I thought maybe it was wishful thinking.”

“But it’s not.” Viktor’s hand found the space between Yuuri’s shoulder and the crook of his neck. “You’ll get better, and you’ll grow your hair back.” Viktor gently tugged the knitted beanie off and smiled. “Not that you really need it.”

“But I missed it,” Yuuri stated, taking the hat and tugging it on.

“Besides that, your weight?” Viktor asked as they were guided to a chair. Viktor grabbed a chair, then sat down as Yuuri did.

More good news. Yuuri smiled slightly. “I dropped one and a half kilos.”

“That’s good.” Viktor eyed the nurse who began to hook Yuuri up to all the medical contraptions. “Does that hurt?”

“Not if I’m distracted—what did the dietician say?”

“Oh, she got angry that you work out so strenuously. Then, I told her that we’re working on weight loss for now, so she was a little less angry. She said lots of activity, but for it to not be as labor intensive. Hiking, swimming—yes, I know it’s cold—easy paced stuff, but a lot of it. She also checked off your diet plan, said it worked. She said it should take about three months, being as active as you are.” Viktor set the papers on the desk next to them and smiled at the nurse, who stared at him.

“Yuuri, is this—”

“Viktor Nikiforov? Yes.” Yuuri grinned. “He’s my coach.”

“Wow,” was all the nurse could say before leaving them alone.

“Did she see that I was your lock screen?” Viktor said suavely, leaning back in his chair.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Yuuri mumbled, glancing at his phone.

“Nope.”

Yuuri huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up. Trying to wipe them, he said, “Now that I’m just about in remission, how does that change our plans?”

“Not too much, but you won’t be out all day, doing things. It will cut us down by three hours, and we can do what we want, then.” Viktor smiled. “We’ll be busy.”

Very busy. Yuuri leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “If I fall asleep, I’m sorry. I almost always do. He gives me medicine before, and, yeah….”

“No, it’s okay. Sleep. I did have a question, though. Are you okay with me posting a picture?”

Yuuri, whose eyes were drooping, opened them and cocked his head, throwing his arms behind his hands behind it. “What of?”

Before he could hold his hands in front of his face, Viktor pulled his phone out and took a picture. “You.”

“ _ Viktorrrr _ ,” Yuuri sleepily groaned, leaning over to see the picture. “Ew.”

“No, it’s cute…,” Viktor gazed at him softly, “but I won’t post it if you don’t want to.”

Yuuri thanked God that Viktor actually asked, unlike Phichit. “Fine, okay. I’m going to sleep now.”

 

Something warm woke Yuuri up. The warmth pressed against his hand, and he wasn’t quite sure what it was until he opened his eyes. Viktor was staring down at him with his droopy, blue eyes. He smiled, the warmth of such a thing heating him up more than whatever was touching his hand did.

“Morning, Yuurichka. Or more like afternoon, really. I got you a hot chocolate in celebration of your remission and for dropping almost two kilos. I...may have sipped it a couple of times, but it’s mostly all there.” Viktor gently nudged the cup against his hand again and Yuuri took it. 

“Thank you...is chemo over?” Yuuri took a sip and hummed, resting his head back on the chair. 

“Yes. Also, I gained you about three thousand followers in the past two hours, so you’re welcome.”

Yuuri groped for his phone and grabbed it. Because his phone would blow up at periodic times, he had almost all his notifications turned off. Except for phone calls and, well….he had about six from Phichit.

“Damn it.”

Yuuri opened his messages and he had hundreds from his best friend. He didn’t remember turning off his notifications for Phichit, but then again, he did a lot of things while he was rearing on the edge of exhaustion. Maybe he did that one of those times.

And when he thought  _ Phichit _ was being the bad friend.

“Shit.”

“Yuuri, are you all right?” Viktor’s hand fell to Yuuri’s wrist. 

“I’ve kind of accidentally been ignoring my best friend since I got back from Detroit...shit!”

Immediately, Yuuri called and Phichit answered after the first ring.

“Yuuri!”

“Phichit! Oh my God!! I am  _ so _ sorry!” Dread began to fill Yuuri. He wanted to hide under a rock, but he didn’t have one. His safest bet was the beanie, so he pulled it over his eyes.

“About what, Yuuri? You’re in remission! And Viktor is your coach! You’re coming back, aren’t you?!”

“About not answering your texts! I accidentally muted you! I’m so sorry, Phichit! Oh, I’m such a terrible—”

“I thought you just needed some space, Yuuri. It’s okay, really. It really is. Now, are you coming back? You wouldn’t have a lot of time to train, but—”

“I don’t know, Phichit. Viktor is my coach, but there’s no way I can perform this season. I guess he’s just here to push me, and—Viktor!”

“Hello, Phichit Chulanont. This is Yuuri’s coach, Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri can’t perform this season, but he will be there next season. Don’t worry. He’ll be in tip-top shape.”

Yuuri heard a muffling come from the speaker of his phone, which made Viktor’s eyes widen. 

“Well, I guess I’ll decide when I see how much I like being a coach, won’t we? Ah—you have a good day as well. Goodbye.”

 

Yuuri didn’t ask what Phichit said to Viktor. It really wasn’t his business, and Phichit didn’t text him what he said either, which was the biggest surprise of it all. Phichit didn’t know how to keep secrets, really. Sometimes, he could, but it was when it was really important. Like, he never told anyone that Yuuri liked boys, but Phichit didn’t really think it mattered. He remembered the conversation clearly.

Yuuri had sat Phichit down on his bed very seriously and told him, “I like guys more than girls. You know, in that way.”

And Phichit just stared at him, saying, “Okay?”

It all just depended on what they had to say and if Phichit thought it mattered or not. 

They just got home from the center and Yuuri was still beyond exhausted. Laying on the mats placed at the chabudai, curled in a ball, Yuuri waited as Viktor finished off his food. Very protein-packed: eggs, fish, nuts, almost all of the foods that were considered protein was in the dish. Viktor, however, after talking with the dietician, decided that they both needed to swear off beef to keep healthy. For Yuuri, so he wouldn’t end up with more cancer, and for Viktor, because it wasn’t a lean meat.

“Yuuri, you didn’t eat half of yours,” Viktor mumbled, keeping a hand over his mouth.

“Not hungry,” Yuuri replied, sitting up. “I’m really tired.”

Viktor shrugged like it was nothing. “Early to bed, early to rise, eh? Maybe you can bike with me.” 

Yuuri groaned, slumping against the table. “Can Makkachin have what I didn’t?”

Glancing over the bowl, Viktor nodded. “We didn’t add onions this time.”

Yuuri placed the bowl on the ground and sighed, resting his head on the table.

After a moment, Viktor spoke. “Really, Yuuri. If you need to rest, go to bed. I wanted to watch a movie, but you’re too tired.”

Yuuri perked up slightly. “Movie.”

“Really, Yuuri,” Mari said, leaning against the door jamb. “By the way, you have another, rather upset visitor, Yuuri. He’s cute, kinda looks like Takao, actually. I had a moment, really. Kinda embarrassing—”

“Who is it?” Yuuri asked, suddenly alert. 

“His name is Yuri, but I call him Yurio because that’s just—”

“VIKTOR!”

And there he stood, Yuri Plisetsky. The Russian punk in the flesh, looking pissed off as ever. 

  
  



End file.
